The Howl of the Frostwolves
by Das the Blademaster
Summary: The story of the Frostwolf Clan, the clan of Durotan (Thrall's father), even through it is supposed to be alternative to the actual story. REVIEW, PLEASE! Chapter Twenty Five is here! Please review FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!
1. Part One: Durotan's Struggle

This is my new attempt at writing a fanfiction. Please tell me if I've got any of the facts wrong, or when I need to correct something. All suggestions are welcomed!  
  
*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells]  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter One - Durotan's Struggle.  
  
Upon the sickly dark green blight-ground, the snow fell. In a matter of minute, snow filed the small hill, overlooking the huge northern white wolves of Draenor, the chosen mounts of the ancient Frostwolf clan.  
  
Wind blew against the old, yet powerful green-skin, as he approached the small hill. Orc was dressed in white wolf fur, much of his features hidden behind the cloth of the shamans, yet his eyes, his brown eyes were revealed. His face was wrinkled even more then usual, as he walked against the wind and the snow. The thoughts of the Orc were somewhere far away.  
  
But what matter did he ponder? The weather? Or his personal life?  
  
If one looked on his face, then he will see an old sage, yet with an imposing muscular structure even for an Orc. His face wrinkled even more, as he stopped.  
  
*Is he mad?! Why was he doing this to his. no, wait, our people? Am I the only one who sees the demonic corruptions of the clans? Well thank nature for saving us from the insanity!*  
  
*And what about Ner'zhul? At least he is somehow mentally stable, but then again - he also does nothing against the demonic corruption.*  
  
Suddenly, the old Orc realized it all.  
  
"Gul'dan only wants power for himself, and encourages demonic corruption" - the shaman spoke out clearly - "while Ner'zhul wants power for the Orc race, no matter the means, and ignores demonic influences. But that would mean..."  
  
And he became quiet, finishing the sentence in his thoughts.  
  
*...that neither one is competent! They will only bring doom to us all. But is there any other option? Either I join Gul'dan, and risk loosing the lives of my people to his dreams of power, either I join Ner'zhul, and risk to lose my people to the corruption, either I-*  
  
His trail of thought was broken, as a young Orc on a large grey wolf appeared. He was carrying a parchment and a flag of Gul'dan. The old Shaman prepared to defend himself, reaching for his sword.  
  
"Stop, oh Durotan of Frostwolves!" - cried out the younger Orc - "I bring the message from the great Gul'dan!"  
  
Durotan stopped his arm, and nodded to the messenger.  
  
*If Gul'dan is great at anything, then that's insanity.*  
  
"A portal to another world has been built on Hellfire Peninsula!" - wolf- rider finally confronted Durotan - "Gul'dan wants to lead our people to that world."  
  
"Carry on" - the shaman nodded again.  
  
*Oh no! Gul'dan wants to conquer another world! He wants to give new lands to his chaos as well! He must be stopped... And how did he build a portal? Hmmm... Probably his demonic patrons did that task for him.*  
  
"He has chosen several clans to be sent to take the world for us, and your clan is amongst them!" - Gul'dan's messanger continued.  
  
"What?!" - Durotan bursted out - "Excuse me. Please continue".  
  
*Why did Gul'dan choose his clan as well? There was something wrong about this... Nevertheless, that does give us chance to try and save the new world, if of course Gul'dan allows my clan to pass through.*  
  
"You are to be given safe passage to the new world. You better prepare for the journey immediately, for the scouts are to be sent through the portal today, and after they return, the main invasion is to be commenced" - spat out the wolf-rider rather quickly.  
  
"Very well" - the chieftain of the Frostwolves smirked - "I will get the clan ready. Farewell!"  
  
"Farewell!" - replied the messanger with much emotion.  
  
*Maybe there is another option...*  
  
With that thought, Durotan, the Chieftain of the Frostwolves walked back to the camp, slowly as always, yet bent on stopping Gul'dan.  
  
*Maybe my people still have a chance...* 


	2. Part Two: Preparations

Please review!  
  
Oh, and sorry I've forgot the disclaimer, but it's obvious that I don't own Warcraft, or anything in it, or its world. I did create some characters, and other things to spice up the thing, and I am intent on changing the history of Azeroth.  
  
*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells]  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Two - Preparations.  
  
Snow fell on the blight... On the dark green blight, yet not covering all of it.  
  
If one was to look from the dark red skies of Draenor that night to a Frostwolf encampment, he would see green Orcs, yet covered in white furs of the northern wolves. The Orcs have surrounded a majestic white hut of marble. Its entrance was a solid door of wood, with red symbols painted across it, and in the middle of the door, an ancient painting of a white wolf, with what seemed to be an Orc on it. It was decorated with ancient Orcish symbols, and on its roof, a banner with a white wolf's head on the black background. The head was surrounded by white circles - the flag was the symbol of the noble and shamanistic Frostwolf Clan.  
  
The crowd consisted of almost all the members of the clan, yet surprisingly, it stood silently. The massive door slowly opened, and hit the wall of marble with a deafened thump. Out of it, went out three figures, one by one: an aged Orc in a white wolf hood with a red letter - "Horgar" (H) - on the very late wolf's forehead, an old yet beautiful brown- haired she-Orc in plate armor (with the symbol of the Frostwolf clan engraved on her breastplate), and a young Orc, also in a white wolf hood (yet braids of his black hair could be seen), and with a steel sabre, with words "Grok-har ubrek" on it's blade.  
  
Durotan looked at his people, and he smirked with pride.  
  
*They are my people! They will save the new world, and I must lead them to their, nay, OUR destiny!*  
  
"My fellow Orcs! My fellow Frostwolves! Orcs and she-Orcs! Elders and Orclings!" - Elderly shaman's deep voice was full of confidence - "Some of you have heard rumors of the portal on Hellfire Peninsula, of a new world, and of us being amongst the ones to go through that portal! These rumors..."  
  
Durotan heard whispers amongst his people. He smiled.  
  
"...are true!" - He looked at the confused Orcs - "We are to prepare ourselves and our mounts, for tomorrow, we set of for Hellfire Citadel!"  
  
Amount of whispers increased - the people failed at hiding their excitement, yet elders looked disturbed.  
  
"We must also prepare for battle, however. But not against the locals! Gul'dan brought upon the corruption of countless millions of our people, but he doesn't want to stop just yet..." - Durotan looked rather grim right now, his wrinkled face was full of sorrow, which he skillfully hided until now - "He wants to corrupt this new, unspoiled world as well!"  
  
Sounds of uproar came from the clan, louder and louder.  
  
"My fellow Frostwolves! This is also an opportunity, for us to find the Habarouth! The chance to live in a world, still full of nature! Our entire clan must move there, to search for and find, Habarouth!" - Chieftain of the Frostwolves expressed his latest thoughts in these words - he indeed was sure that Habarouth of legends, the land, where grass was green, ground was brown, sky was blue, and mountains of snow stood, the land promised to Frostwolves according to an ancient legend lied in that new world.  
  
"We must save Habarouth from Gul'dan's evil!" - A young voice cried out from behind the old Orc.  
  
Durotan turned to the young warrior who stood right behind him.  
  
"You are right, Greh'tor! That is our goal in the new world!" - Chieftain turned back to his people - "We all must depart tomorrow, and Gul'dan MUST NOT KNOW of our true goals! Gather all your belongings, and prepare for the long journey ahead of us!"  
  
The Frostwolves cheered out to him, and to his two companions - his wife Draka, and his old friend's orphan, Greh'tor.  
  
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Durotan walked back into his hut, which was rather modest in inside - he had wooden furniture, and his prized trophies and weapons, as well as his library, where various scrolls of knowledge, legends and nature lied.  
  
He went towards his library, and raised a special scroll, which was placed away from the others.  
  
*So this is the new beginning that was prophesized so long ago.*  
  
He looked at the scroll. It was full of various Orcish letters, and in the middle of it, there was a symbol - a stone arch, with fire underneath it.  
  
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Bearded face of the old Orc looked rather pleased. But fire, flame was in his red eyes! Flame of hatred.  
  
He was approached by another Orc, but this one was different - he had dark green skin, yet his eyes. They were just like the warlock's eyes. He wore full mithril armor, as did the old warlock.  
  
"Master Gul'dan!" - roared out the dark green Orc.  
  
"What is it, my faithful servant?" - asked the warlock. His voice was grim, hiding his pleasure, as he already knew what just happened.  
  
"The first scouts have been sent out through the portal!" - replied the warrior.  
  
"Good, Megtern! Inform me when they return" - said Gul'dan.  
  
"As you say, master" - Megtern walked away, nor fast, nor slow.  
  
Gul'dan was alone again.  
  
*Soon, our war of ascension will begin! And Ner'zhul will be stuck here in helpless situation. I have finally outsmarted you, mentor!*  
  
On that last thought, Gul'dan laughed. What vile, maniacal laughter it was. 


	3. Part Three: The Ride to Hellfire

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells]  
  
Disclaimer: As if you didn't figure it out, I don't own Warcraft series, Azeroth, or anything in them.  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Three - The Ride to Hellfire.  
  
*Two days now since we separated. Yet we are riding as fast as the wolves could carry us. I do regret the separation from our families and Elders, yet it's best this way - Durotan cannot be wrong! Gul'dan must be stopped!*  
  
Greh'tor's parents have died long ago, yet he could still remember it - a massive Draenei warrior came out to them with its warhammer, and Greh'tor ran as fast he could... Yet his parents died, but Durotan saved him. Durotan always favored his father, Nezh'shogh, and when his friend died, the chieftain took his friend's infant boy, and raised him...  
  
*I can still remember it... He teached me of Shaman knowledge, and Draka teached me how to fight... *But most importantly, they gave me a home and a loving family... They were just like my parents...*  
  
The brave warriors of the Frostwolf Clan were clad in medium or minimal armor, but above the armor they all wore snow wolf furs - symbol of their shamanistic heritage. Most of them carried special blades, known as Katana Swords, while the others carried random personal weapons. Yet these weapons weren't for raids on the enemy clans, but rather for defense. While the Frostwolf Clan had fearsome warriors, and great shamanistic and martial skills, the clan was peaceful, never fighting unless there is a very good reason. They always tried to be at one with nature, even through the nature of Draenor declined long ago...  
  
"Ride like the wind, my people!" - Durotan joined them on his giant northern wolf - "Ride like the wind to Hellfire and to Habarouth!"  
  
The Orcs got separated, since she-Orcs, Orclings and Elders were too slow to catch up with the youth of the clan. It was decided that the wolf-riders will establish the primary settlement on this world, and also will make sure that the way to the portal was safe.  
  
It was the third day since they left they camps in they journey to Habarouth, and Orcs were still to put Durotan's words to doubt - or at least, no one objected out loud yet - but rather out of uncertainty, instead of fear. Durotan was their beloved leader, after all!  
  
"Where are we now, Chieftain?" - Durotan was addressed by Greh'tor, who sounded quite curious.  
  
"You don't have to call Chieftain, young one!" - Durotan laughed, and so did Greh'tor - "And as for you question, we are about to cross the Flameblade River, and then we will ride through the Mushroom Fields of the Shattered Hand Clan."  
  
"Will they let us through?" - asked Greh'tor.  
  
"They are supposed to" - Durotan replied in his deep voice, and both Orcs signaled for their wolves to ride faster.  
  
*But they aren't guaranteed to act like we think they will*  
  
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The majestic green river was mostly frozen, expect for several holes, apparently made by Shattered Hand fishers.  
  
In order not to risk anything, Durotan decided to cross the river quickly - he feared that the ice would collapse.  
  
"We shall rest on the other side, my warriors! Forward!" - the aged chieftain cried out, and in three hops, his well trained wolf and comrade, Shnogar, crossed the river.  
  
The other charged across the river as well, yet ice didn't break. Durotan looked relieved, but actually, he was thinking of Gul'dan, and his cunning...  
  
*What evil does he plan for our clan... I must know!*  
  
The old Orc dismounted, and released Shnogar, knowing that he won't run away too far from his master.  
  
*Well, at least we made it thus far... But tomorrow, the Frostwolves will ride again to Hellfire Citadel, and to their destiny!*  
  
The clan settled down, and before them, lied the field of giant mushrooms, that were abundant on Draenor. Tomorrow, the journey through the mushrooms shall begin!  
  
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The structure was made out of Black Marble, and its entrance was made to look like a huge black skull. The temple was guarded by many Orcs, dark- green Orcs - a result of Gul'dan's necromantic experiments. In side it, darkness reigned around a ritual circle, yet if one was to look closely, then silent Orcish Necrolytes and Warlocks stood around it, yet they didn't act.  
  
A silent silhouette stood by, watching them from afar. He was approached by another silhouette, of a muscular powerhouse.  
  
"Oh Great Gul'dan, excuse me for bothering you, but the Sixth Circle has arrived" - Megtern said, as politely as he could.  
  
"Good" - deep and vile voice of Gul'dan replied - "Very good, my loyal and faithful servant."  
  
Gul'dan stepped out to the ritual circle. Another group of black cloaked, discolored and deformed, wrinkled Necrolytes, and Warlocks, with red, burning eyes - a result of a demonic curse - has entered.  
  
"Greetings, Master Gul'dan." - half-whispered a tall Necrolyte.  
  
"Let the summoning begin!" - Gul'dan exclaimed impatiently.  
  
"As you wish, master!" - Guttural voice of a Warlock replied.  
  
The dark sorcerers, including Gul'dan, surrounded the ritual circle.  
  
"Begin the ritual!" - Gul'dan broken the silence.  
  
In the darkness, chanting could be heard, then there was a flash of light, and a mighty voice that shook the very foundations of the dark temple spoke out in anger - "What is it that you want, pathetic whelp?!" 


	4. Part Four: Field of Mushrooms

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: As if you didn't figure it out, I don't own Warcraft series, Azeroth, or anything in them.  
  
To randh13th: Finally, someone has noticed this! Thank you very much! Now, at last, I know that I am not just writing for myself!  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Four - Field of Mushrooms.  
  
Mushrooms. This was a field, a forest of giant mushrooms, abundant in Draenor. And these mushrooms weren't only for eating - some of them were poisonous and basically impossible to eat, and had white spotted, red "hats" on top of them. If one tried to chop through such a Mushroom with is teeth often broke his teeth in the effort - these mushrooms, however, were used for building.  
  
Greh'tor, and another pair of raiders rode as fast as they could. Greh'tor could not help but notice that one of the other raiders looked rather strange, until he realized that he was a she!  
  
"Excuse me, miss (OOC: I know, I know, it doesn't sound too Orcish)" - the young Orc was rather confused - "but weren't the Orc-wives supposed to be with the other group?"  
  
The female just ignored him, and Greh'tor also remembered that they were supposed to find a way out - mushroom hats were right above them, and Greh'tor wasn't really used to mushroom forests.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a 'Whoosh!' of a spear, and a spear barely missed the she-Orc.  
  
"Who threw that?!" - outraged female screamed to a mushroom.  
  
"I don't want to find out!" - Replied Greh'tor - "Hiya!" - he yelled to his trusty wolf - Doomfang.  
  
With a howl, his wolf rushed forward barely evading the mushrooms, and he was followed by the other two raiders.  
  
*He must have lost us by now.*  
  
'Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoowhoowhoowhoowush!' - A rain of spears came out from two gargantuan mushrooms. One of the raiders fell, and Greh'tor and the she- Orc tried make their wolves go even faster.  
  
Greh'tor got a chance to look around, but he saw nothing, expect for the spears, raining down the small path.  
  
*Have they got no honor?!*  
  
The two were close to a clearing, where Durotan and some others tried to discover the source of the spears.  
  
"We were ambushed!" - reported Greh'tor.  
  
"We all were ambushed today, young one." - replied Durotan.  
  
"They hid behind these mushrooms" - the female replied.  
  
"In that case, I have a little something to scare them up" - Durotan grinned, jumping from his wolf.  
  
Durotan raised his staff, and then pointed it downwards to another group of mushrooms, not far from the first one.  
  
"I sense them!" - His sagged voice spoke out slowly - [Forces of the Frost - come forth! The Sacred Wolves are needed once again! SUMMON!]  
  
A electrical noise was heard behind the mushrooms, followed by sounds of confusion, and then, an explosion, and finally a howl.  
  
*Why can't we all just get along? Can't the clans unite to embrace the wonders of nature?*  
  
The old shaman sighed, and decided - that was enough for today.  
  
"Let us settle down here until the other arrive" - Durotan sounded worried.  
  
"But won't they attack us again?" - One of the raiders, with a warhammer, asked.  
  
"They are scared off for now." - replied Durotan, and took out his katana.  
  
*For now.* 


	5. Part Five: The Final March

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn. The rest is owned by Blizzard.  
  
To randh13th: Thanks again! Oh, and Durotan is rather a mixture of a Far Seer and a Shaman - that's how I always imagined him.  
  
To Dark Elk: I will consider your generous offer, and I have question: can I submit the story at your site part by part, I should I finish it first? And thank you very much for your kind comment as well!  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Five - Before the Final March.  
  
The gate. It was rather an arch of stone, with skulls and bones decorating it. Two torches were providing the light near the gate. to another world! And blue flame filled the vacuum under the Arch. A hooded person approached. Against it, stood another silhouette, with a red cape (the only thing distinguishable, since it was close to a torch).  
  
"Greetings, my dark sorcerer!" - A deep voice proclaimed - "Have the scouts returned yet?"  
  
"That they have, Master Gul'dan, that they have." - half-whispered the caped person - "yet a strange madness overtook them as they returned, an-"  
  
"Silence!" - Interrupted the older warlock - "this madness is nothing to stop us! They were just too scared by the difference of that world!"  
  
"But." - the other warlock muttered - "But our. I mean, your Horde will go insane!"  
  
"It will not!" - Yelled Gul'dan and the caped warlock began shivering at the demonic powers of his master - "Don't you know, unworthy one, that no two Orcs are the same?! That some easily go insane and much of the others WILL not?! Our destiny lies there, can't you see?!" - He continued rather calmly - "And also, in the great numbers, the Horde won't be so frightened, and the Orcs will get used to the new world soon."  
  
The elderly warlock turned around.  
  
"Medivh promised me the greatest power ever in that world." - Gul'dan said somehow gently - "And the Horde was promised a new land to pillage."  
  
"And this is the solution to the problem" - Gul'dan and the other Warlock said as one.  
  
"I ask for forgiveness, my master." - spoke out the younger warlock.  
  
"You are redeemed, underling" - Gul'dan barely hid his anger at the incompetence of his warlocks.  
  
*Then again, they are easy to manipulate!*  
  
If anyone was to see Gul'dan's face in the darkness, he would notice that the wrinkled old warlock has smirked at this thought.  
  
*So easy to manipulate, just like the rest of the Horde...*  
  
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After the treacherous attack, all went rather peacefully. As the last three giant mushrooms were left behind, Durotan, Greh'tor, and the other raiders decided to rest.  
  
"Well, I told you that it will be fine!" - Durotan laughed - "but what are our casualties?" - He became more serious.  
  
"Well, as long as I know, five of our brave warriors are no more, but your spell scared the attackers off!" - reported Greh'tor.  
  
"Actually, we lost seven warriors" - the guttural voice of another raider was full of sorrow.  
  
"I understand that it is hard for us to let go of our friends, but we are also lucky that so much survived." - Durotan's deep voice was also full of sorrow.  
  
Everyone paused for a few moments, each one lost in his or her thoughts. They all commemorated the decay of their friends and companions.  
  
"They shall never be forgotten" - said a She-Orc.  
  
"You can trust me, Laturna, they will not fade away in our memories, as long as a Frostwolf lives" - replied Durotan.  
  
"Wait!" - Greh'tor's voice cut in - "what about the other part of the clan?"  
  
"They shall be here soon, for I sense them near!" - exclaimed Durotan.  
  
"How can you sense them?" - asked a very confused Greh'tor.  
  
"There will be another time for this tale, young warrior." - Durotan's eyes were closed - "let us rest for a while, for we are almost at the peninsula." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Not much time passed, as with a loud howl, several Frostwolf riders appeared.  
  
Durotan opened his eyes and stood up. Despite his age, he still sustained his figure of the youth.  
  
"Greetings, chieftain!" - Cried out one of the raiders - 'the rest of the Clan is almost here!'  
  
"Good." - Durotan slowly spoke - "Are they tired?  
  
"Not at all." - a calm voice of an armor clad Frostwolf champion replied - "We marched slowly most of the time, and they are ready to march to Hellfire Citadel right now!"  
  
"Good, good" - again repeated the shaman - "we had our rest, but how did you get here so fast?"  
  
"We ran and rode through the mushrooms in one line, and we saved our strength until then!" - Replied the champion - "The Clan is right behind us!"  
  
With that, a She-Orc ran out.  
  
"Welcome back, Draka" - smiled Durotan, and then said to the champion - "Thank you, Mer'shorn!"  
  
Soon, more and more members of the clan, young and old, and of both genders have appeared. They came in with a noise, as the hundreds. no, wait, thousands marched out of the mushroom field. The noise has awakened the rest of the raiders. The final march is about to begin!  
  
Durotan smiled, as the families were reunited. It was almost as in the days of his youth, when his father led the clan to the south during a terrible storm, and his people got separated, and only found each other at the south of their lands.  
  
*Only now, the snow is missing, and the roles have changed - I am in place of my father, and Greh'tor. is in my place...*  
  
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Once again, thank you, randh13th and Dark Elk. 


	6. Part Six: The Chosen Clans

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard.  
  
To Centarius Killer: I am afraid that the blood pact took place somehow earlier then the start of this story. And it was secret, I think only Daemons, Ner'zhul and Gul'dan (and maybe some other members of the Shadow Council) knew of the event.  
  
And I also think that there were frogs on Draenor, and if anyone thinks otherwise, than please inform me (with proof against the fact, of course).  
  
Oh, and think of the warriors of the Burning Blades as of Blademasters of level from 3 to 10.  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Six: The Chosen Clans.  
  
The sea on Draenor was green, and the Sun was orange. And as the gigantic orange ball of flames slowly rose over the Sea of Skulls, a small frog jumped away from a fairly small river that entered the sea. As it jumped away from its home, it saw an unusual sight even for Draenor, as a white wolf, panting yet racing forwards jumped over the frog, causing it to quickly withdraw. The first wolf was followed by an even larger one. If the tiny creature was to look up towards the leather saddle, it would see another green skin, this one different in structure and size from the frog. This particular greenskin was covered in a Northern Wolf's fur.  
  
The frog wasn't new to the large greenskins, who called themselves Orcs. It also was familiar to the fact that they often rode of wolves. But it never saw white wolves, and it was especially stunned, when more and more wolves and their raiders followed. The frog simply hoped away from them, not knowing that the history was being made.  
  
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The massive, gargantuan creature advanced. Its size was overwhelming, and when it stepped, the ground around it trembled. It was the oddest creature, as it had light-blue skin, and it's most incredible trait: two heads! One of the heads had a singly horn on top of it, and only had one eye. The other head was two-eyed and had only a single braid of hair on top of its head. And both heads were independent, creating a hard dual personality.  
  
Its companion was also a bit strange, but not even comparable to the two- headed giant. It wore black mithril armor, and a black cape and hood. Its eyes were red, and skin was green. Its body was wrinkled, yet the greenskin was younger to its mentor. One could make out a large stone staff with a red diamond on top of it.  
  
They moved side by side, as sun set over the peninsula.  
  
Finally, as they approached a large arc of stone guarded by several black- robed elderly Orcs, who sacrificed their youth for immortality and the dark magicks of the Twisted Nether, and dark-green Orc warriors, also dressed in mithril armor similar to their master's. These warriors were breeded and enhanced magically, to form Shadow Council's elite shock troops and bodyguards. They were only known as Yiriks, which could be roughly translated as "The Cursed Ones".  
  
As Warlock Gul'dan overlooked the Dark Portal again, this time in sun light, he smiled with satisfaction.  
  
"Behold, Cho'gall!" - He exclaimed to the Ogre Mage - "We have arrived!"  
  
"Good! My clan will soon arrive here as well!" - exclaimed the two-eyed head. "Let's get on with this. What were we supposed to do here?" - asked the horned head.  
  
Gul'dan apparently ignored the second head.  
  
"We will have to wait for the other clans as well." - replied the warlock, closing his eyes for a brief moment, and then addressed the strongest of the dark-green Orcs - "Megtern! Is the portal ready?"  
  
"Yes, my master, but what am I to do now?" - replied Megtern with more then usual angry tones in his voice.  
  
"Now, now, my servant! I know that you are unable to wait for battle any longer, so I charge you with leading the new scout expedition to this world with some more of your accursed brethren." - Gul'dan smirked.  
  
*Megtern and the other Yiriks are indeed the destruction machines they were meant to be! Their only true weakness is the lack of battles at the current time, and I must admit even I can not wait to send them to haunt the enemies!*  
  
Gul'dan opened his mouth in a smile, revealing his large, yellow teeth.  
  
"I am grateful, my master!" - Megtern was clearly pleased by the order - "I will not fail you! I will assemble and prepare my warriors right now!"  
  
With that, the destructive warrior slowly walked away.  
  
Cho'gall was failing terribly at hiding his impatience, but could not defy his mentor, even through the stupider head already began to whisper something ungrateful.  
  
"The invasion shall soon begin, Cho'gall!" - Gul'dan turned around to his gargantuan pupil - "It shall begin as soon as all the chosen clans arrive!"  
  
"It is obvious that Twilight Hammer clan will be amongst them, so we can bring the Holy Oblivion to this new world!" - retorted the ogre, with his one-eyed head simply nodding.  
  
"Well otherwise, I wouldn't send a messenger to tell your clan to come here!" - The mithril-armored Warlock replied - "But you are not the only one I send forth to the new world!"  
  
"First, of all, we of course take your Twilight Hammer clan, as well as my loyal spell casters that do not belong to no other clan" - the Shadow Councilor took the longer way of describing the Shadow Council in order to avoid having Cho'gall find out about the true ruling organ of the Orcs - "and of course, my faithful Yiriks."  
  
*The Shadow Council indeed controls all the petty chieftains and their clans - and they don't even know it!*  
  
The elderly Orc barely hid a smile which came to his scarred lips at the later thought.  
  
"Then, we have the mighty Bonechewers, and the wise Shadowmoons." - Gul'dan wrinkled with anger when he mentioned his own clan - "yet Bonechewers are too shamanistic and too savage to control, while Shadowmoons are reigned by Ner'zhul, and might act as his agents in the new world. The same goes for the Laughing Skull, and Grom's Warsong Clan. The latter I regret, as Grom Hellscream and his warriors are intrigued with the blood of one of our demonic patron, specifically Mannoroth."  
  
"Much of the Thunderlords are loyal to Ner'zhul as well, but some of their Warlocks and Necrolytes could be useful... I also took a special note of a particular warrior of theirs; he may and will be used later on..."  
  
"What is his name?" - Half-whispered, half-hissed a tall necromancer.  
  
"His name is Blackhand, oh Heth'nor Snakejaw" - Gul'dan was irritated by being interrupted so fast.  
  
Nevertheless, he continued: "Then there is there is the Bleeding Hollow clan. They are also intrigued with Mannoroth's blood, and their leader, Kilrogg Deadeye is a seasoned fighter" - Gul'dan closed his eyes in pain of looking at the magical fiery rift before him - "And of course, the Burning Blade clan! They may be few, but they are the most powerful Orcish warriors ever, and they are the only clan which is more affected by Mannoroth's blood then the Warsong clan!"  
  
*After all, slightly over ten skilled Burning Blade warriors manage to almost single handedly decimate a Draenei Army of three hundreds!*  
  
"But what of Frostwolves?" - reminded him Snakejaw, a nightmare to his fellow Necrolytes and Warlocks, and secretly, to Gul'dan himself.  
  
"Frostwolves are going there as well" - replied Gul'dan, opening his eyes - "for it is the perfect time and place to punish Durotan!"  
  
"Very well, my master." - replied Cho'gall's horned head, while his more normal head agreed with a rather idiotic laughter - "As long as we get to crush the locals and the Frostwolves, he-he-he-he!"  
  
"All of the chosen clans and individuals have been informed, and are supposed moving this way right now!" - Finished Gul'dan and turned away from the others - "Come Cho'gall! I think that your clan should be here any moment now!"  
  
The gargantuan Ogre-Mage attempted to sunken his stomach, and once he failed, the chieftain of the Twilight Hammer Clan followed his master, shaking the ground once more, while the elderly Warlock was lost in his thoughts... 


	7. Part Seven: Arrival at the Citadel

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard.  
  
To randh13th: Thanks once again, and do you have proof?  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Seven: Arrival at the Citadel.  
  
Hellfire Citadel was... majestic! With obsidian statues and ancient hieroglyphs, with walls of stone and the skulls... the skulls that were put on the walls (mostly to scare away the foes, and also to be shown as trophies of the victories of years past), that, in turn, were geometrically correct, which is strange for an Orcish fort, usually not more then a crude fortification.  
  
Five wolf raiders have stopped at the entrance. Their wolves white as snow, and the raiders wore white furs of the wolves, enough to scare Snakejaw at first.  
  
*Are these ghosts? No, no, it couldn't be.*  
  
One of them looked up, and sayed with power in his sagged voice - "Necrolyte! Inform your Master Gul'dan that the Frostwolf clan has arrived!"  
  
Snakejaw paused for a moment, as if thinking it over.  
  
"Inform him NOW!!!" - yelled out the tallest of the raiders in a guttural voice.  
  
"Yes, yes, of course!" - retorted a very angry Necrolyte.  
  
*How dare he?! Insult such an important Necrolyte?!*  
  
Heth'nor decided that they were simply ignorant, and went away.  
  
"Are you sure that this is not a trap, Chieftain?" - asked Draka.  
  
"I am sure it is not, my love." - replied Durotan slowly.  
  
Finally, line after line, the rest of the clan has returned.  
  
Slowly, the dark-green monstrosities appeared on the top of the wall, near yet another statue of Gul'dan. They took out two chains, and roared something to each other. Durotan wrinkled in anger.  
  
*Another of Gul'dan's foul experiments! Damn him for corrupting our poor people!*  
  
Yiriks, eight in number, began to pull the two chains to different size. It seemed to be rather easy for them, for they were even more of a powerhouse then even the strongest Orcs. Slowly, and with a lot of noise, as rusted iron began to move, a large gate was opened. Its opening was enough for four Frostwolf raiders including their wolves to fit through.  
  
The Orcs of the Frostwolf Clan congratulated each other.  
  
"We have finally reached the Hellfire Citadel!" - exclaimed a very excited Raider.  
  
"That we have, indeed!" - smiled Greh'tor, to be followed by Durotan and Draka.  
  
And with that, the clan rode in - the dirty pig farms were right before them, and a rather interesting black tower of obsidian, with a flashing emerald in it caught the attention of much of the Frostwolves, while their beasts were rather scared by the huge fortress-city, the later part being just put on for the sake of the show rather then actual quartering of people.  
  
Slowly, a distinguishable figured slowly approached the clan. Durotan smirked, trying to hide his displeasure as he recognized the one in charge of this fortress, which was practically built over night since the Portal was discovered.  
  
*Gul'dan!* 


	8. Part Eight: The Meeting of the Two

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Eight: The Meeting of the Two.  
  
As he approached his "guest", Gul'dan seemed rather amused.  
  
*So, this is the "last hope of shamanism"? I cannot wait until I am able to show him the true Warlock powers*  
  
Gul'dan wore a black cloak, and a suit of Mithril armor. In his hand, a black staff of obsidian was held firmly by the warlock. His eyes were fiery- red - a part of his little "deal" with the demons.  
  
The other figure has approached him silently. The wrinkled old Shaman was. impressive for his age in the opinion of the warlock. He bore the usual clothing of a shaman, and in difference from his dark adversary did not require any enchanted objects to use the magicks of nature.  
  
"Greetings, Chieftain Gul'dan" - Durotan masterfully hid his emotions, as he approached his archenemy walking by the obsidian-black wall.  
  
"Greeting, Chieftain Durotan" - Gul'dan put a forced smile on his face - "how fares your noble clan? Did you encounter any danger on the trip?"  
  
*Have I overestimated the spearmen of the Laughing Skull* - Gul'dan asked the actual question in his mind.  
  
"Not at all, Chieftain Gul'dan, not at all." - slowly replied Durotan, deciding not to tell the warlock of the assault in the mushroom field - "but shall we get on to the matter".  
  
"Why of course, Chieftain Durotan" *Soon you will die anyway* - replied the wrinkled elderly warlock in his deep voice, which would frighten the ignorant - but not the shaman, causing Gul'dan to actually admire his adversary - '"is your clan ready for the journey to the new world?"  
  
"My people will need a small rest after our journey" - the shaman responded, a bit quicker then usual, as he realized that Gul'dan tried to enter his mind.  
  
He pretended he did not notice, but decided to finish this discussion soon.  
  
"Fair enough. Will the proud warriors of Frostwolf go to Azeroth after half a day?" - Gul'dan wrinkled more and more as he tried to enter Durotan's mind, which was surprisingly strong.  
  
"Azeroth?" - Durotan as a bit confused, but he already begun to understand it.  
  
"That is how I and a few other. err. warlocks decided to name the new world" - Gul'dan knew that it was an outrageous lie, and that he just heard that name from Medivh the Rift Gifter (as he was known amongst the Shadow Council).  
  
"Very well" - the elderly shaman replied, beginning to show his annoyance - "yes, half a day shall be enough. Right now I have to go and talk to my clan".  
  
"I understand" - Gul'dan gave up at his attempts to find out his enemy's plan. - "it was a pleasure talking with you."  
  
*Damn you*  
  
"Likewise" - Durotan felt Gul'dan withdrawing from his mind and smirked.  
  
Gul'dan's red eyes saw Durotan slowly walk away,  
  
*You may have won this battle, shaman, but you cannot escape my entrapment. But right now, I need to take care of some other matters*  
  
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	9. Part Nine: Emerald Green

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard.  
  
Randh13th: Oh, but this story is going to be an alternative history! Meaning that at some point, the story and the plot will go different from the real one!  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Nine: Emerald Green.  
  
They were waiting. They were impatient. The demonic army was imposing indeed... Yet there is one, of whom even they feared. The demons always denied that, yet Gul'dan was aware of it...  
  
"You fear me, as you do not know me..." - proclaimed the hooded figure.  
  
Gul'dan was silent, as in his dreamlike state, he penetrated the border between the realms of dead and living.  
  
"Let me show you my world..."  
  
Suddenly, Gul'dan realized that he heard that before... It was déjà vu of sorts... But a dream repeating a previous dream?!  
  
"Let me show you my world..." - Medivh's voice repeated as the silhouette slowly faded out...  
  
"Let-let me-me show-show you-you my-my world-world!" - His echo followed.  
  
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Gul'dan slowly opened his eyes, and begun to rise from his bed of stone as the sun rose over his "citadel", and his quarters.  
  
"You had shown me you world, Medivh!" - he replied.  
  
*No, Gul'dan. He had only shown it to you in the vision! You will go there, yourself, today!*  
  
The Master of the Warlocks smirked, and then let out his laughter, weak at first.  
  
*Yes, yes. Soon, I will walk their world, and I shall claim it for the Horde. And by that... I shall claim it... for MYSELF!*  
  
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The rift of flame has closed any vision of what was behind the arch. And to add to its picture of eternal flame, the fiery sun of Draenor was up. One by one, the greenskin clans marched through.  
  
First marched through the mithril-clad Warriors of the Burning Blade, only their heads not covered in armor. Each of them had a wooden banner attached to his back plates, a banner of an Orcish katana ablaze.  
  
Then marched through the mighty armies of the Twilight Hammer, and their gargantuan leader as well. None of them were on wolfback.  
  
All the Orcs were startled by the fact that Heth'nor Snakejaw and Gul'dan the Warlock have been missing, only a few knowing the truth, which was that they went through the portal earlier.  
  
But no one apart from them knew of their intentions...  
  
Next marched the dark-green Yiriks, clad in armors of steel, and bearing might axes, warhammers and swords. Both the Yiriks and the Blademasters of the Blade neglected ever using any shields, in difference from the most clans.  
  
After them, rode the famous wolf riders of the North - the Frostwolves, amongst the last followers of the Old ways, as Shamanism was known amongst Gul'dan's and Ner'zhul's followers. They rode on white wolves, never seen in the rest of Draenor. Much of them relied on their agility and mastery, not on armor. As for weapons, they had scimitars, yatagans, sabers and amongst the richer and nobler of them, katana blades.  
  
In their front, rode Durotan, his scimitar held up against the air. By his side, rode the tall champion, Mer'shorn, his wife, Draka, and the ever- present adopted son, Greh'tor.  
  
Durotan seemed fully awake, yet he, as always was lost in his thoughts, when his wolf stopped. He barely held himself in the saddle.  
  
"Shnogar!" - The shaman let out a yell of anger - "Ride forth! Hiya!"  
  
After hesitating at first, the massive white-furred giant jumped forth into the rift of flame, and disappeared silently. Shnogar's and Durotan's examples were followed by the rest of the noble clan of the white banner.  
  
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Durotan closed his eyes as he was surrounded by the flames of the rift. He felt extreme dizziness, and held his breath.  
  
Finally, he felt a powerful push, and then he opened his eyes. And the first thing he noticed wasn't the blue skies, or the resting greenskins from the other clans. Nay, it was the green grass that caught his attention.  
  
As his wolf gently landed, he continued to stare for some later moments.  
  
*So I was right! Habarouth is indeed close! So close... I can almost feel it!*  
  
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	10. Part Ten: The Council of the Frostwolves

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar.  
  
This is a bonus chapter, to encourage reviews. And it is also the last one I will give you without reviews! So REVIEW after your read!  
  
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Howl of the Frostwolves:  
  
Chapter Ten: The Council of the Frostwolves.  
  
Dusk fell over the lush grasslands. By now, the territory around the Dark Portal - that was how the rift was secretly labeled amongst the Frostwolf warriors - was divided between the clans, and crude temporary settlements were built.  
  
The Frostwolf settlement was richly decorated already - with shamanistic symbols, ancient paintings and hieroglyphs, and of course wolf-furs of their dead comrades and of the prey in a hunt. Their "tents" were primitive dwellings cowered in tree bark.  
  
The Orcs still had hard time getting used to green grass, blue skies (that now were dark-blue instead of blood-red of Draenor), and the blue water in the small creek.  
  
As Greh'tor, Mer'shorn, Durotan, Draka and several others have gathered in Durotan's tent, covered in bark and frost wolf fur, even through Durotan began to realize that there won't be much frost wolves in these lands - but still, a symbol of his authority was needed. Out of its rooftop, a banner of the Frostwolves, white wolf's head on red also marked Durotan's importance.  
  
In the tent, around a small fire, sitting were the elders of the Clan, the young warrior and Durotan's adopted son Greh'tor, and the Frostwolf Champions, Mer'shorn and Nazgrel, chieftain's wife, Draka, and of course, Durotan, the Shaman, the Elder, the Chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan.  
  
And so the council began, to be remembered forever.  
  
"My fellow Orcs of the Frostwolf Clan, we have traveled far away from our homes. And this, this has to be the Borderland of Habarouth! We must seek the Promised Land, yet now, I also see we must also save it from Gul'dan." - The present in the tent were untouched by the message of the possibility of a war between Gul'dan and Durotan - they all already of all Durotan knew - or at lest told -"But we are too few to fight them ourselves. Does anyone has an idea as to what we must do?"  
  
*The question is mostly rhetorical.* - smirked Greh'tor as his father. no, no, Durotan, Chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan made his speech.  
  
"We obviously need to find a dominant race in here. or at least any sentient being apart from us for that matter" - the oldest of the Elders, Drek'thar spoke slowly, and despite his basically broken physical form, his voice was still full of power. A lot of people thought it was a spell. The oldest shaman turned to the chieftain, once his eager learner - "Chieftain Durotan" - he sayed with great power coming from his voice - "In my opinion, we must send some scouts to the north, the west, the south, and the east."  
  
Durotan's mentor received numerous nods of agreement.  
  
"Very well" - replied Durotan, without much hesitation - "through there is not much to the south, where the Burning Blade and the clan less reside"  
  
Greh'tor chuckled at the mentioning of the latter - "The clan less are not much, but then, each warrior of the Blade has a large territory for himself, so south is out."  
  
"The same is for the west" - replied a guttural voice coming from a white- bearded Orc, relatively young for an Elder, who sat in a corner - "and what little land is there, Bleeding Hollow is settled there."  
  
"Well then" - a moaning voice implied - "I will go to the North with the scouts."  
  
"Do you control the elements, or have some other power?" - Durotan wasn't just going to let an Elder, or just any old Orc, go with a dangerous scouting party.  
  
"I have my trusted Katana!" - replied the discolored old Orc, most likely over Durotan's age - "And I need not anything else!"  
  
"Kigami!" - Mer'shorn tried to hold him back - "Surely you notice that..."  
  
"No, boy, I already lived long enough time" - whoever was called Kigami seemed confident.  
  
Durotan has noticed something strange between Mer'shorn and the aged blademaster. The blademaster that he didn't notice much of - or didn't remember.  
  
"My time for fighting is long over, but know this, lad: I want to experience a battle again!" - continued Kigami.  
  
The elders begun to whisper among themselves in discontent, and Durotan was confused, not knowing what to do. Luckily, Drek'thar decided to quickly solves the problem: "I think it is best for Kigami to go in a battle, if he wishes so, but in charge of his group, shall be Mer'shorn"  
  
Durotan chuckled.  
  
*A wise plan again, mentor. Whatever there is between Mer'shorn and Kigami, it can be used well.*  
  
"And I shall go to the east!" - declared the young voice of Greh'tor, who previously was watching the discussion from a corner.  
  
"If that is your wish." - The shaman-chieftain felt uneasy all of the sudden - "your training as a warrior and a leader is long complete, so we should put it to good use" - Durotan chuckled again.  
  
"I will not fail you." - promised Greh'tor, as he slowly walked towards the fire.  
  
"I know you won't..." - Durotan stood up and sighed. He understood that he would miss his foster son.  
  
"I also accept the command!" - exclaimed Mer'shorn, slightly embarrassed by the previous scene.  
  
"Then tomorrow, you all shall depart, with the chosen warriors of the clan!" - the discussion was closed by Durotan.  
  
"Then let us get on to the matter of settling in this... strange new land." - added Drek'thar.  
  
Greh'tor sat down between his foster parents, as Drek'thar explained the uneasiness of some of the Orcs, as well as of their frost wolf mounts, despite the fact that Greh'tor's mind was somewhere else, somewhere far away, as he already begun to imagine his adventures.  
  
Durotan just smirked, as he saw the blank look in his adopted son's face.  
  
*He is still so young, so naive... And he is basically a son to me - not born to Draka and I, but raised and trained by us*  
  
Then the shaman saddened.  
  
*I hope nothing bad happens to him...* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
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	11. Part Eleven: Village of Elwyn

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though.  
  
Mr.Pessimisim: Thank you for the review, and Raciistr? I fail to see the meaning of that one word.  
  
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Chapter Eleven: Village of Elwyn.  
  
The ever-green and lush valley, and the woods nearby, lied in peace, and from the fertile mountains of Azeroth, it seemed almost entirely untouched. The forests and the grasslands seemed forever tranquil, and only on a second glance will one notice the town of Elwyn, yet the woods nearby were named after this tranquil human settlement.  
  
Its buildings were just peaceful and ever welcoming barns and its people inhibited a cuddly and peaceful community, where everyone knew everyone. The wardens of the town and the rangers in the woods were friendly to each other and to the locals. The entire valley was really the ideal settlement, and it served the best ale in the kingdom, which even came to compete with the Dwarven ales. Its tavern was also welcoming, to locals and strangers.  
  
No house was the same with the other, as each was richly decorated by its inhabitants. Some had self-made mosaics of kings and paladins, others had small gardens in front of them.  
  
The locals were peaceful folk, but known ye - in case that they are roused by a threat, at the Town Hall of Elwyn there was storage of armor and weaponry, and each man of a house had known how to fight. That knowledge was acquired at the price of his freedom and his right eye by a local bandit lord, who carried the Banner of the Knife and the name of Erryl Bloodknife. And in the long run, it also cost him his sanity, and his remaining men, now led by an enigmatic young man, Aedelas Blackmoore, have escaped to the south, to live between the Gnolls and the Kobolds. And the Bandits of the Knife have faded from the memory of Elwyn, like the Defias from Westfall.  
  
All was peaceful now, and only rarely, random strangers will prophesize the end to it all. And even now, as a strange illness has spread over the land of Azeroth, and bickering with fighting amongst the locals took place, Elwyn was left completely untouched, as if it and its people were protected by someone.  
  
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And if they were, then special protection came to one man. His career as a Warden was absolutely divine and unbelievable; he was the one who brought down Erryl Bloodknife; he was amongst those in charge of Elwyn's defense; he was an honorary member of the council; he had a beautiful wife and a son; his fame even spread outside of Elwyn and even Azeroth. And he achieved all that by his late thirties, while his brother in Stormwind Keep was a mere cleric, albeit a servant of the light. It seemed as if he had some guardian angel watched over him and his family, and a lot of people were envious (in a good way) of him.  
  
His name? Cedric Lightbringer.  
  
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Sorry about the lack of plot-development in this one - this one was an introductionary chapter... You still have to review though.  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	12. Part Twelve: Oncoming Storm

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though.  
  
Mr.Pessimisim: I know, and I will try to compensate for it soon.  
  
Randh13th: Thank you once again, and now that I have some reviewers again, might as well update, huh?  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Twelve: Oncoming Storm.  
  
As the roosters announced morning, a handsome young man, with almost-elven blonde hair, his muscular structure hidden in simple peasant's cloth, made of wool, has slowly walked on the stone road towards the two-floor building of the town hall, which also included a large tower with the latest mechanical innovation - a Dwarven towerclock, as the people of Elwyn called it.  
  
As the young man - and the member of the town council - has walked to the building, he had heard neighbors greet him - and that he returned - and then the villagers have switched to spreading rumors.  
  
And the rumors were stranger then ever this time:  
  
"Have you heard, that Blackmoore plans to free Erryl?!" "No, and why should he? He has the power as long as the ole' one-eye is in the prison..." "Bah! That's nothing! Did you hear that an army of green men is invading from Stranglethorn!" "The what? Anyway, them's lizardmen, and they came from the Swamp of Sorrow!" "No they didn't, you ninnyhammer! They are goblins, plain and simply, and they flew here on their airship things!" "They are in the league with Blackmoore!" "They are blue-skinned, and they are the jungle trolls from the south! I always told you that one day, they will go on a march to war one day!" "They are demons! Straight form the twisted neither, to search for the last of Tirisfal!" "The last of Tirisfal disappeared after they killed Sargeras the Demon Lord!" "This is insanity! The demons all died with that Sarhetar!"  
  
And as the busy rumor exchange continued, the blonde warrior had only one thought.  
  
*Could it be, that the curse has reached us as well?*  
  
But no, the crops were fine, and the people only cursed each other kiddingly during the heated disputes.  
  
*And what of their rumors? Could there indeed be an army of greenskins marching to Azeroth?*  
  
No, he decided. Rumors as exciting as this were never right.  
  
And then something in the trees has drew his attention. Some branches were moving and some of them even cracked. But he gave it no heed - end of August was always windy in Elwyn, and why should he be worried of some wind? But the wind that was now didn't seem enough to crack any branches. And then...  
  
The sky above him was filled with two... or three massive boulders flying from the forest for one moment, and then his instincts demanded that he pulled himself back, and he begun to run, then heard a deafening thunderous noise, and stopped to look back, while covering his ears. One boulder now crumbled on the ground. The other two have hit the town hall. One has broken the towerclock; other has broken a window while it's second half has fallen down, barricading the door. The few town council members that survived were forced to jump out of the windows, some with important documents, some with bags full of weapons, as they realized the possibility of a battle. The citizens have hid in their houses. Silence has lasted for a few moments, enabling Cedric (and that indeed was him) to think.  
  
*The rumors must have spoken truth!*  
  
Then came a ferocious war cry, like a roar of a roused bear. And then the trees that were visible between the houses begun to fall, revealing a mass of greenskins. Their structure was muscular, and Cedric, despite the distance, could have sworn that he noticed blood-red eyes burning in flames. Behind the monsters was a carefully cut path.  
  
*The rumors are the truth! But how come did rangers not notice it?*  
  
Finally, Cedric spoke - "Men of Elwyn! We will make our stand!"  
  
"Aye!" - Replied a black-bearded man-one of the council members - "we have brought out some of the weapons when we jumped out."  
  
And some of the citizens began to come out. Wardens came out first swords unsheathed, and in the same woolen clothings. Cedric unsheathed his sword as well, and raised it up. The greenskins begun their charge from the woods, and Cedric has noticed that some of them bore loincloth, while the others were in full armor of iron and steel, and that few of them also had dark green skin, and bore strange black armor. They were armed with warhammers and axes, while dark-green ones had some strange long blades - all that lead to the conclusion that the dark- green ones were the leaders of these monsters. The people of Elwyn rushed to the bags with weapons and armor, and rushed back to their houses to dress themselves into the iron ring-armor and say their goodbye to their loved ones. Only then, Cedric thought:  
  
*We let out guard down... But why is Elwyn the first to be attacked? It is of no importance...*  
  
And then he remembered the eyes of the monsters... And of what he had once learned...  
  
*It was the closest, and they only live to kill, to sink the world in blood... They are forever insane. But we will make our stand here, nevertheless!*  
  
The people begun to come out, no in ring armor, and with axes, swords, bows, daggers, maces and shields. This was no army, but it was the best Elwyn had to offer.  
  
"People of Elwyn!" - One of the members of the town council has yelled out from behind - "We make our stand now! They will only pillage Elwyn behind our dead bodies!"  
  
And the people have cheered to this. Some of them, with a warden, were ordered to run to the wooden wall on the other side, in case that the other beasts will come from behind as well. Cedric now eyed the oncoming beasts again, and prepared with his mighty sword for the coming battle. The citizens have drawn out their weapons; the first battle of the war has begun...  
  
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Unbeknownst to the brave defenders of Elwyn, another group of green-skins known as Orcs has advanced upon them from the west. They rode the white wolves of the north that however weren't getting used to the local temperature, which was indeed forever unstable. As they forward and forward, the saw many peculiar creatures and plants. But their mission was above their curiosity, so the green-skins rode on and on to search for any sign of sentient life to help them in their struggle.  
  
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And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
And don't worry, your huge battle is coming in the next chapter!  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	13. Part Thirteen: The First Clash

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though.  
  
GalthroxKun: Really? Well, I am ever so thankful! Never thought that I will actually write something that will go to someone's favorite stories folder. Thank you again, and here comes the next chapter!  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Now to recap, in case you have forgotten some parts from the story and don't want to go over it again (and that is understandable):  
  
While walking in the snow and pondering the future of his people (caught between Ner'zhul and Gul'dan, two mighty Orcish leaders and warlocks (shamans gone bad)), Durotan the Chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan (the last uncorrupted Orcish clan apart from anarchistic Bonechewer Clan) has received a message from Gul'dan, that he had opened a portal in Hellfire Citadel (Gul'dan's capital) to another world, and has chosen several clans to populate (and conquer) the new world in the name of the Horde (which was formed not much years ago). Durotan, while almost correctly guessing how Gul'dan created the portal (Durotan thought it was made by the Burning Legion, but it was actually made by Medivh), was taken by surprise when told that his clan was to travel there as well. Though he could feel a trap, he had decided to go there with his clan anyway, suspecting that the new world may be the Habarouth, the promised land of the Frostwolves. Later, he, together with his foster son, Greh'tor, and his wife, Draka, has addressed his people on this matter, and the journey to Hellfire Citadel has begun. In case of a trap, Durotan has separated the She-Orcs, Orclings and the Elders from the warriors, so the warriors will make sure that all the possible traps and ambushes that may be ahead of them will be neutralized.  
  
Meanwhile, Megtern, a Yirik, (elite warriors of Gul'dan bred for combat and command of the ordinary orcs alone) has reported that the first scouts were send through. Gul'dan meanwhile finishes plotting out his master plan against Ner'zhul, his former mentor. He also manipulated the spear-throwers of the Laughing Skull to attack the Frostwolf Clan in their Mushroom Field (of huge mushrooms that are abundant on Draenor) And as the Frostwolf warriors have crossed a river of the Shattered Hand, Gul'dan and the rest of the Shadow Council (the master manipulators that secretly pulled the strings behind the other clans) have summoned a powerful demon in a secretive ritual, for some reason that remains hidden... In the field of Mushrooms, Greh'tor (after noticing a She-Orc named Laturna amongst the warriors) barely evaded death at the hands of the Laughing Skull ambushers, as the sky was filled with spears. Durotan however used a powerful summoning spells to scare them away, and it worked. Soon, the Frostwolves left the field of Mushrooms with rather small causalities, and met with the other part of the clan. At the same time, Gul'dan was told that the first scouts have returned, but they were overtaken by strange madness. Nevertheless, Gul'dan was convinced (and rightfully so) that the rest of the Horde will go through without any problems. He then holds council with several most trusted of his minions, including Megtern the Yirik, Heth'nor Snakejaw the Necrolyte, Cho'gall the Ogre Mage (Chieftain of the Twilight Hammer Clan), and several others. There, he told them of the ones destined to go to the new world, including the Yiriks, himself, the Shadow Council (without revealing it, actually), the Twilight Hammer Clan, the Frostwolf Clan, the Burning Blade and Bleeding Hollow clans, some spellcasters from Thunderlord Clan, and a warrior named Blackhand the Destroyer. Megtern and his warriors were ordered to go as the secondary scout party, this one to seek out the local creatures and races.  
  
The Frostwolves have at last reached the Hellfire Citadel by that time, and were amazed by its walls, complete with gravures and obsidian statues, while Durotan was outraged at the Yiriks, a cruel necromantic experiment. Once in there, Durotan and Gul'dan had a small discussion, during which Gul'dan at first underestimated Durotan, and then actually admired his adversary, especially after failing to enter the Shaman's mind, where a small fight of magic was made, when Durotan prevented Gul'dan from finding out his plans, and forcing him to withdraw from Durotan's mind.  
  
Gul'dan and Heth'nor have decided to see Azeroth for themselves, and left early in the morning, right before the clans, that were by now assembled, begun to enter the new world. After seeing the green grass and blue skies of this new world, Durotan's belief in the fact that Habarouth was indeed in Azeroth was strengthened greatly.  
  
The clans have settled down around the Dark Portal, and the Frostwolves held a council, on which it was decided that two scouting expeditions were to be sent around the land to find any possible allies in order to prevent Gul'dan from ruining this land as well - one to the east, and one to the north. Eastern one was led by Greh'tor, and the northern one was led by Mer'shorn the champion of the Frostwolves, and was joined by Kigami, and old warrior who wanted an honorable death in a battle or at least one last fight for the Frostwolf cause.  
  
Meanwhile the bloodlusted Orcs, and a few Yiriks have cut their way through the woods to a peaceful village of Elwyn, and attacked it, barricading the Town Hall by several clever shots from their catapults, and then charging at the citizens that were now armed more or less, an the wardens, led by Cedric Lightbringer, Uther's brother.  
  
And now the desperate defense of Elwyn begins. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Chapter Thirteen: The First Clash.  
  
The green grass was quickly smashed by the millions of green feet running across the field to a small settlement, made from a strange material, which resembled the core of the so-called "trees". Against the Orcs, stood villagers in ring-armor and daggers, axes, and other random weapons, and a few un-armored villagers with swords, who seemed to be overconfident, despite the hundred orcs charging forth. One of them, with bizarre golden hair, seemed to be the commander of these pink-skin weaklings.  
  
"Bah!" - Yelled out a huge Yirik in something that seemed a long roar to the humans - "they are just pathetic waste of life! Kill them for their blood!"  
  
And a roar was returned by the other Yiriks and Orcs, as the two armies, one a savage band of marauders, and other a heroic, but doomed militia...  
  
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Cedric has struggled hard to keep himself under control, as a green-skin approached him.  
  
*I will not... Let... The rage... Take control of me!*  
  
The last words were yelled out loud, and taken by the orcs as a warcry, as the blonde warrior advanced his sword arm slowly towards the oncoming half- naked Orc. and in a moment, the Orc let out a groan of agony, impaled on the sword. Cedric pulled out his sword, his bloodied sword, in great disgust, and then parried the hit of an axe from the other Orc, as the battle begun around him.  
  
A warrior of militia charged an incoming greenskin with a dagger, just in time to hear one of his comrades in arms yell in pain, as a dark-green warrior swinged his long-blade (katana). The militiaman closed his eyes in sorrow, yet managed to wound one of the orcs, only to meet the same fate as his companion.  
  
A small black-haired child of eight or so threw a stone at a Yirik, and would have thrown some more, but his mother pulled him back to the relative safety of their wooden barn, but it was also not safe for long, as a boulder launched from a catapult crushed through it's fragile roof, and a terrified scream was heard, followed by weeping: "Mommy! Mommy! Are you alright?!"  
  
*The foul beasts! They make no difference between men and women, elders and children! They will die for this!*  
  
And the warden cut at his enemy, and then impaled the one who followed him.  
  
Cedric looked around him, as yet more yells filled the battlefield, and the cold clanging of weapons also followed. Lightbringer's eyes were full of pure rage as he charged at the nearby greenskin, slicing and swinging, as he lost the control of himself, to the rage... Just like his enemies did several years ago.  
  
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A warden charged, cutting an Orc's arm off, only to be impaled on a katana of a Yirik, whose eyes were filled with fire.  
  
Two militiamen with axes managed to kill an Orc, only to be smashed to bits by oncoming warriors.  
  
Orcs were dropping dead on the battlefield, yet even more Humans fell.  
  
And a Yirik fell to a bunch of militiamen and a warden, and let out its last roar, falling on the ground, only to be trampled at by more orcs.  
  
And more and more Humans lost control of themselves, not even thinking about the fact, that they and their enemies were now not at much difference -only the physical appearance was different, as both sides now were berserk, without any control over themselves... Not noticing a shadow which looked down upon them from a hill... Not noticing the evil grin on the face of a conjurer's son, who oversaw their pathetic war which just begun a few moments ago...  
  
*Which will only bring me my kingdom...*  
  
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As Doomfang jumped over a large rock unto the top of a green hill, he was followed by tens of other white wolves that however stopped behind the first one, showing good discipline. His tall rider, with a katana blade and in white-wolf furs that covered his breastplate and black hair smiled at the sight which was opened to him, morning's pink sky, and the fertile yet beautiful mountains, and the green grassland...  
  
*Durotan has to be right! This may just be Habarouth! Such a beautiful sight...*  
  
But then his thoughts were broken, as he noticed. fire! And then he noticed something that seemed to be a... settlement of sorts.  
  
Near him, a beautiful She-Orc in full armor and with a katana has stopped her wolf as well. Greh'tor lost no time to recognize her.  
  
"Laturna, is it?" - He spoke, and she nodded - "does this look like a settlement to you?"  
  
"Yes, it does, and just of hand, I would say that a struggle is taking place there" - she replied in a melodious voice.  
  
"Very well, in that case it is not just me." - Greh'tor eyed the other small brown dots, and noticed some strange tiny figures - "we should hurry up!" - He addressed the orcs behind him, in full armor, covered by shamanistic furs - "forward!" - and then to his wolf, Doomfang - "Hiyah!"  
  
The other riders followed his example, and Doomfang rushed forward, with the others close behind. But no matter how he tried to concentrate on the settlement and the fire he noticed, he just couldn't shake his thoughts of Laturna.  
  
*Who is she, to ride like our warriors, and fight just like them, just as one of them? Who is she to be a female warrior, like the amazons of ancient legends?*  
  
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And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	14. Part Fourteen: Death of Megtern

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though.  
  
GalthroxKun: Thanks again! That was very fast, really - I usually have to wait for weeks to get any review!  
  
And I understand that this isn't my best chapter, so tell me what to correct, please.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Fourteen: Death of Megtern.  
  
As a brown-haired peasant, with several bruises on his face telling of his past, and a large birthmark on his nose stood on a roof by an entrance with stone stairs, all on a stone tower of sorts, which was behind the wooden wall from the period of war against Erryl's bandits, a noble-sounding voice called him from the tower itself, causing him to climb down from the half- ruined stone fortification.  
  
"It is a lot safer here, my friend." "It is also a lot darker here" - replied the peasant in guttural, dwarf- like voice. "Nevertheless... What did you notice?" "Nothing yet."  
  
It was hard to see any movements in the dark, with torches only lighting the wall by the stairs, and it was also quiet apart from the nervous breathing of the both. The silence was broken by the warden.  
  
"Then what is that?!" - He pointed to the only other source of light - the roughly shaped window.  
  
At first the peasant only noticed the noble's gloved hand, but then he also noticed a duststorm... then it seemed... white!  
  
"What magic is this?!" - He asked the warden, not expecting an answer.  
  
"Well, you better just go and look..."  
  
And the peasant slowly went up again...  
  
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The chaos of battle still continued, when suddenly, a huge warrior of dark- green skin yelled out almost clearly on Azerothin language - "Who is the leader of your pinkskins?!"  
  
Cedric has suddenly fallen out of the rage, and was taken aback at first.  
  
*He can talk?!*  
  
'That would be me, Cedric Lightbringer." - Cedric hid his sudden weakness as he eyed the other one - "And who be ye?"  
  
"I would be Megtern, Captain of Yiriks and the commander of this raiding party!"  
  
Cedric has noticed that he seemed to ignore the battle, and soon, at a wave of his hand, if you could call it that, the green-skins around the both leaders have stepped away and continued to charge at the other humans.  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
"The Yiriks need war! We cannot live without combat!"  
  
"How do you speak then?" - Cedric yelled hard, so this "Megtern" will hear him through the clanging of metal and yells of rage.  
  
"You ask too much, pinkskin Cedric! Let us fight, leader on leader!"  
  
"If that is your wish!"  
  
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The image became clearer and clearer, and then the same peasant on the tower yelled in horror - "More greenskins came! They ride on white wolves, and dress in their furs!"  
  
"Oh no! We are surrounded! But wait... There is something different about them... There is no fire on their eyes..."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" - asked the peasant as he almost =flew down the stairs in fear.  
  
"They don't have any bloodlust. These are not the green-skins that have attacked us."  
  
"So?!"  
  
"Run to Cedric if he still lives, and tell him just that! I will try to find what is this all about!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
*It is suicidal!*  
  
"Just do it! Cedric once explained it to me..."  
  
Having nothing better to do, the militiaman just stood there, and ran to the battlefield as fast as he could...  
  
The caped, gloved warden in the ordinary woolen warden uniform, with brown hair making him seem almost entirely dark-brown, apart from his face and his sword, has rushed out, his cape caught on the wind, towards the "gate", which was just a wooden door, and caught several glimpses of the peasants, who knew not what he was doing, and deemed him insane.  
  
*Let's just hope that what we were taught is right, and that they wouldn't just attack us anyway... But what other hope do I have?! It may be disobeying my orders... but saving this village is more important!*  
  
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Both now not noticing the rest of the battle, they eyed each other down... The Yirik in mithril armor eyed down the pinkskin in some pathetic brown clothing and with golden hair and a strange blade, that seemed to lose length until one pathetic edge...  
  
The warden in woolen clothings that became the "uniform" of the wardens of Elwyn, and with a mighty sword eyed down the dark-green skinned monstrosity in strange black armor and with a strange, long and razor-sharp blade without a hilt.  
  
And then they charged at each other and with one metal 'clang', their blades have met, and soon, the two warriors have exchanged their places, turned around, then the Yirik charged, with the blade in both of his hands, and his opponent swung his sword to parry the hit...  
  
'Swing-swing' 'clang-shung'  
  
And then the human tried to hit his enemy, but the hit did almost nothing to mithril armor that met it.  
  
"Pathetic weakling!" - Megtern charged once again - "know you not that you can't break mithril with some pathetic iron blade!" - and as the two blades met again - "I am surprised your blade is still intact!"  
  
Cedric quickly searched for a weakness, as the two blades held each other at stalemate.  
  
*His neck! This is a battle to death, and you will not escape it, foul spawn of darkness!*  
  
But before the warden could plan out any attacks, he was forced to parry a storm of blade hits that came in inhumane speed, and evaded the last one by jumping away.  
  
Megtern has charged his enemy with a roar, which made the other sounds of battle seem like nothing.  
  
Cedric retreated, and met this hit with blade once again, took one step back, and almost fell as someone bumped into him.  
  
"Excuse... me... but more green-skins are coming on the white wolves... from the other side." - the peasant panted out, and stepped back as he noticed Megtern.  
  
"What?!" - both Cedric and Megtern were shocked, but for different reasons...  
  
*More of them! We cannot hold them all at bay! We are doomed!*  
  
*The accursed Frostwolves! Only then can ride the Wolves of the North! Durotan be damned for all eternity!*  
  
Cedric at first expected quick death because of his distraction, and closed his eyes, accepting the doom, but when he opened his eyes after a quick moment, he noticed that his enemy didn't charge him, but also was shocked, perhaps even more then the Lightbringer was. Not knowing why, Cedric did what any other warrior would have done in that case...  
  
As Megtern regained control and mentally blamed himself for being distracted so easily, it was too late...  
  
'Swing-clang-thwarth-crash'  
  
And as the catapult fired again, Megtern was no longer alive...  
  
His neck was opened, and disgusting black blood leaked out of it. The massive body collapsed as the Captain of Yiriks roared his last words on the Orcish tongue - "Fight on, warriors..." And as he coughed once more, Cedric finally became aware of the battle around him. And to his horror, he noticed that over the half of his army has fallen down, while the Yiriks were still shocked by the fall of their leader.  
  
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"Fall back!" - Yelled the blonde warden - "fall back to our houses! There we will have more chance!"  
  
And the militiamen blindly obeyed, followed by wardens, and after killing/stunning their current enemies they ran, much of them made it.  
  
Cedric looked at a peasant with a large birthmark on his nose.  
  
"Are you the one who told me of the orcs coming from the other side?" - the Lightbringer half-whispered.  
  
"Yes sire, and I am sorry that I bumped into you back there..."  
  
"If what you speak is true, then I can understand your rush. Now quickly, tell me all you know!"  
  
"Yes, there were hundreds of them, they rode on white wolves and much of them wear strange white furs..."  
  
*We are doomed... Unless...*  
  
"Did you see their eyes?"  
  
"What is it with the eye thing! Yes I id, and the warden near me did as well, and sent me here to tell you that their eyes are different from the ones of these greenskins!"  
  
Some of the villagers begun to notice the discussion, and some ever begun to panic even more, as they took positions behind their houses.  
  
"How were they different?"  
  
"They weren't on fire, sir. They were more like... ours."  
  
*There still may be hope!* - Cedric hid his relief.  
  
And the peasant continued - "And then that warden, Arrius, he ran through our gate to meet them or something!"  
  
"And did a good thing, too." - Replied Cedric - "this may be our only hope."  
  
"Why?!"  
  
"Quick, join the other defenders!"  
  
*Light, please make them friend, not foe!*  
  
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As several Orcs walked into the town, which was suddenly so quiet, suddenly a large net fell on them, and a guttural laughter was heard from the roof, as militiamen jumped out and started hacking at the captured Orcs...  
  
A Yirik charged into the house after breaking the door down, but was then captured by Cedric and some other warden, and the three militiamen stabbed him with their daggers, and to his agonized roar, more Orcs came only to be fought back by the wardens and the militiamen that rushed from behind the house...  
  
But eventually, this defense begun to fail, as the Orcs now advance more cautiously, and the catapults would first scare or kill everyone in the house.  
  
But then, a guttural yell came from the wooden wall!  
  
"Lok tar! To battle!"  
  
And then the riders on the white wolves charged, with a brown-haired warden trying to keep up with them.  
  
Cedric had smiled for the first time this day, as he saw this charge from a corner where he hid after the nearby house collapsed at the concentrated catapult fire - he knew not how did the other greenskins agreed to help the villagers, but they came, and they fought those who did not run at the first sight of this glorious charge, and the battle was won. And as he stepped out, he was greeted by Arrius - "Well, well, you are still alive!"  
  
And the two comrades in arms charged to help the new and unexpected ally. Cedric had a lot of questions, but as he charged against the wind and the retreating enemy, he decided there will be other time for this tale...  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	15. Part Fifteen: The Forging of Alliances

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least...  
  
GalthroxKun: Thanks again! That was very fast, really - I usually have to wait for weeks to get any review!  
  
Randh13th: Heh, nice guess, and it is rather obvious... But I still have a few plot twists up my sleeve...  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Fifteen: The Forging of Alliances.  
  
An hour after the battle, it was both the time of triumph, and the time of sorrow. Men and women of Elwyn went to their houses for a while, as one - they wept their loved ones and their friends that were lost forever to the war. Cedric and the other wardens didn't show their sorrow at the time, as they carried away the corpses of their dead to the graveyards, accepting the help of some of the civilians. Yet the people of Elwyn knew one thing - they won, at least for now.  
  
After much of the corpses were carried away, the blonde warden looked around the city, trying to find the damage to the buildings: a third of the town was now in ruins, due to desperate catapult fire, but it could have been worse. Arrius was yet to explain how did he manage to persuade the greenskins (who meanwhile camped near the forest, and interrogated the other, accursed members of their race that they managed to capture) to help the people of Elwyn, but at least they helped. Cedric still couldn't find out who was their leader and barely tried to speak with any of them, suspecting much of them to be unable to talk, or at least on Azerothin.  
  
*Nevertheless, they could prove to be good allies - heck, even the Paladins of the Horse are unlikely to be able to commit such a charge at the enemy! They sent them running like rabbits, and captured a lot of them with their nets, anyway... Yes, they could be good allies...*  
  
Cedric turned around just in time to notice Arrius go by him, and followed him.  
  
"Say, Arrius, how could you communicate with them?" - Cedric asked, trying to hide his impatience.  
  
"Yes, well, you will rather be surprised as to how..." - Arrius turned around. - "They can talk in a language which is similar to the Old Tongue of Northshire. Not completely the same, but very similar. They also talk on some other language, but the other language they can use as well - I know not why."  
  
"Well that explains it... I may still have a reason to learn a dead language as well... But how did you come to know it?"  
  
"Well, my father was a scholar..."  
  
"Well that about explains it, apart from how did they come to know it. Well, go talk to..."  
  
By that time, the former militiamen begun to step out and exchange the rumors. The two wardens seemed to ignore them, though.  
  
"They are called Orcs"  
  
"Well, go talk to them - try to form an alliance or something..."  
  
"That won't be hard" - Arrius turned away - "they have a hatred for the leader of the blood-lusted Orcs, someone named Ghoul-dhan or something..."  
  
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Two dark silhouettes have approached the waterfall. They have approached it slowly, and cautiously.  
  
"Are you ssssure that there issss no trap or ambusssssh, massster?" - The one that wore black robes hissed almost like a snake.  
  
"Yes. I could sense any trap that our little friend could set for us, and it will not be useful for him to even use one right now." - replied the deep voice of the red-cloaked person. He also worse a grey robe that concealed all of his flesh, part from his face.  
  
"Very well, massster."  
  
The valley seemed surprisingly... lifeless. Only a black raven flew in the sky, and was soon pursued by a brown eagle, with a white head and predatory look in his eyes.  
  
"A natural circle of life" - commented the taller of the two, the cloaked person.  
  
*Yet it is so easily destroyed, don't you think?* - the thoughts were not of his own, but nevertheless arrived to the mind of the person in grey robes.  
  
*What trickery is this?!*  
  
*Only the usual, my dear friend...*  
  
And as the eagle was in a beak's distance from its prey, suddenly the raven stopped, and immediately, the eagle stopped, and seemed... older, and weaker, until it just fell down to the ground, lifeless.  
  
"What isss happening, massster?!" - The wrinkled short greenskin was terrified at what happened before his eyes. His companion also didn't understand what happened, when the raven gently landed near the defeated predator. And then, in a moment, the raven was gone, and the third silhouette has appeared. It was dressed in brown robes, and it's glowed arms held a wooden stave with what seemed like a head of a raven on top of it. And then, it spoke in deep voice, not much different from the voice of the cloaked Orc next to him:  
  
"Now, is the time we discuss our "terms" of partnership, Gul'dan."  
  
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Kigami seemed to have nearly no problems in riding a wolf on his own, his beard and his cloak catching the wind, without using any magicks, despite his age, much to the surprise of the younger warriors, as the white wolves charged to the north. Through the fog, the threatening huge mountain was already visible.  
  
As several wolves jumped though the thick fog, the raiders could now barely see each other.  
  
During the last few days, the saw amazing and unbelievable people, like biped wolf-people that armed themselves with maces and strange bows that seemed to be somewhat like miniature ballistae, or the rat-people that were the main miners of the land. And the fish-people that tried to attack the Frostwolf scouts yesterday - needless to say, it was a pathetic failure. In that one battle, Kigami also shown that he still has some skills left, as he cut down over ten fish-creatures. Mer'shorn also cut down around that number.  
  
The riders kept noticing some strange relationship between the two leaders of their expedition, and rumors went around that Kigami was Mer'shorn's father, uncle or grandfather.  
  
And now, that they rode through the thick fog, which seemed to be endless, and as the threatening spire was easier and easier to make out, Mer'shorn and Kigami both knew, that despite any danger, they are most likely to have to search this black spire that seemed to be a perfect hideout for any fiend of evil... Such as Gul'dan...  
  
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Sun was just beginning to set down, and the young Orc was getting rather impatient. The prisoners just wouldn't talk, and he didn't want to torture them - that would be against the Code of Honour, and the warrior in the white-wolf furs would not go against that, a d neither will any other member of his clan - or at least he hoped so.  
  
As the warrior turned away from the fire, he saw a familiar figure dressed in brown, has approached him.  
  
*Now who was that? Oh yes, the warriors of these "humans", who spoke the Tongue of Habarouth.*  
  
"Greetings, Greh'tor."  
  
"Greetings... Arrius. Why do you come to our fire now?" - The leader of the scouts had hard time speaking on the Tongue of Habarouth, which was the language usually used on ceremonies and rituals.  
  
"To once again thank you for coming to our aide" - The warden of Elwyn, despite being born in Northshire also seemed to have problems with talking on the strange language that was amongst both the tongues of Man and of Orc.  
  
"Aye, it was a fine battle, and we are always glad to help the ones who stand against the minions of Gul'dan! But surely this is not the... only reason to talk with me now."  
  
"Indeed, we have decided to sign alliance with your warriors against this Gul'dan."  
  
"I am sure my foster father will accept of this, as he sent us here to seek allies against Gul'dan!"  
  
"You are not the leader of these warriors?"  
  
"No, these are only the scouts of my clan. And something tells me that your men here are not the only ones in this world."  
  
"Surely they are not! A messenger was sent to our capital as of now, to warn them of the threat and to tell them of our new ally! We have thousands of riders in our lands!"  
  
"That is good news indeed! I also sent a messenger to Durotan, the chieftain pof the Frostwolf Clan!"  
  
"Your father?"  
  
"My foster father. But as for myself, I consider ourselves in alliance!"  
  
"So do I... Greh'tor, so do I..."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	16. Part Sixteen: Spire of Dark

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least...  
  
And excuse me for the long delay! And for this chapter, as it does not seem to be what I intended it to be...  
  
GalthroxKun: Well, I think its Medivh, M-e-d-i-v-h, and it means Keeper of Secrets on the language of the Highborn Elves.  
  
Darthh: May be, may be... And it's Thrall, not Thull.  
  
Darth: Its FROSTWOLF clan, not Whitewolf or Forestwolf Clan, and they are not the only clan not controlled by these two - there are always the savage cannibalistic Bonechewers.  
  
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Chapter Sixteen: Spire of Dark.  
  
The spire was now closer and closer, as the riders in white furs, with katana blades unsheathed just in case - this was the manner of the Wolf Raiders - and on white northern wolves of Draenor.  
  
The sun was already setting down, not far from the majestic yet somehow threatening mountain - its peak was now invisible to the naked eye. Through the mist, a muscular rider with a very long katana which had some old Orcish symbols carved into it has noticed that it would be almost impossible to climb up on a wolf or even on foot.  
  
As he looked around again, he decided to ask council from Kigami, who seemed to be old enough to see even the beginning of Draenei Wars.  
  
"How will we climb this spire, master Kigami?" - He inquired.  
  
"Now, now, no need to get formal with me there, lad" - Mer'shorn could have sworn that Kigami winked at him - "However I am afraid we will have to leave our wolves behind, and sheath our blades - we will have to climb up if at least to see what is on top, and besides, we will get a good view of the situation from there..."  
  
"But how much time will it take?"  
  
"As impatient as always, I see... seeing as much of us here are good and young warriors, then if we really concentrate on it, then it will take us less then a hour."  
  
"And what of our steeds?"  
  
"They will return to our call if they do run off, and then, exercise may help them - and I am sure everything will be fine..."  
  
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Climbing up the mountain, the blades strapped to their backs, the Frostwolf warriors indeed didn't have many problems, while the edge of the spire was still to be seen. No looking around or down, they only looked up, as they struggled not to fall all the way down. No place where they could rest was in sight.  
  
In the end, it was decided that half of them will stay to guard the wolves and all the not-necessary equipment. Kigami was to stay with them, as he was, as he admitted "too old" to climb up the spire. Mer'shorn however went with the rest of his warriors...  
  
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The middle-aged Orc, in light armor and the blade behind him, did not look up or down. He would just grasp to the stone, and try to advance. The Frostwolves were helpless in the mountains, but due to odd luck, there was no one to kill them.  
  
*This is an insane task! We could just as easily scout out the lands that we could see from there on our wolves! But I guess I should not question my commands...*  
  
If he had looked around, he would see that the others also had the same problems. Some of them even took off the wolf furs and some parts of their armor before climbing up. And almost none of them could see the logic of this.  
  
The thoughts of the raider were broken, as one of the younger Orcs yelled out something from above.  
  
".ves!" - He heard - "Caves!"  
  
*Caves?*  
  
And then the powerful voice of Mer'shorn asked, slightly above - "What are you talking about?"  
  
And the first raiders began to climb up right into the cave, only a small strip of mountain ground actually outside of it...  
  
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Several strange and gargantuan silhouettes have slowly walked through the stone entrance, creating a lot of noise as they went. Near them, a caped figured sneaked into the cave, and after pushing a stone button, the entrance into the mountain was closed with even more noise as stone hit the ground - an ancient device developed by the previous inhabitants of the secret tunnel. The other couldn't care less, as they marched through the seemingly forgotten tunnel, forgotten because of a trick - a simple illusion of horror and the effect of rumors - and producing almost the same noise as the closing of the door. Strangely, they did not speak, and perhaps did not even breathe. And the new battle for the Blackrock Spire was about to begin, for the first time in centuries...  
  
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And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS.  
  
Edit: The chapter after this will be for free to compensate for the lack of updates, and because that this one was a rather crappy one.  
  
Once again, I apologize, because I was ill later. 


	17. Part Seventeen: Spire of Blood

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly!  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Seventeen: Spire of Blood.  
  
'Splash'  
  
As several pairs of feet marched through the darkness, one of them stepped into some kind of a puddle, causing the water there to fly up a bit, and then land again. The two torches barely provided any light in the tunnel, and the travelers mostly had to find their way by using their arms.  
  
The torch barely revealed even the hand in which it rested, only it's green skin.  
  
The leader most likely marched in front, as he was brave and heroic, and was also the champion of his clan.  
  
As they advanced farther and farther, struggling to make out anything, their eyes begun to get used to the darkness. And that was why it hurt their eyes almost to tears, when a small light became visible.  
  
"We must press on, my warriors! The light is near!" - exclaimed the guttural leader.  
  
And with that encouragement, the Orcs ran forward, only to see that it is a window of sorts.  
  
"Why can't we just rest?" - Asked one of them, but their leader ignored the complaints, as he looked through the window. He could clearly make out the mountains surrounding him, and the grasslands, and the woods, but he just could not guess why would there be a window in a mountain.  
  
And then it became obvious, as the Frostwolf furs were visible again due to the beam of light that entered the tunnel...  
  
*Someone must have lived here! Possibly these rats we saw or maybe some other strange mountain creatures...*  
  
But then, the thunderous sound came from the tunnel! At first they were deafened, but then they were clearer and clearer, and it already begun to hurt the ears of the Orcs, as they held to their heads.  
  
"Whatever it is, we will fight!" - Yelled their leader - "Weapons ready!"  
  
And the blades catched the sunlight, as they were raised by the warriors, while more and more of them approached from behind...  
  
And then the first "creature" approached, barely fitting into the tunnel. It was made of brown, dirty stone, and its eyes were full of magma-like fire. Desperately, the Frostwolf Orcs charged, yelling ferocious war cries. Not even the katana blades could break through the stone, but themselves were broken and damaged, after their wielders were thrown off by two rock- like limbs.  
  
The marching stopped. Mer'shorn looked around.  
  
*If we kill one of them, then the others will just march in! But we will not flee! We will fight and die in honour!*  
  
"To battle!" - He yelled, and charged the monster. The first hit failed to do anything, and the stone monstrosity would have simply tossed him away, had he not jumped before that. Instead, the creature smashed some other Orc.  
  
But an idea came to Mer'shorn. These things were clumsy, yet powerful. So if he could jump in between them...  
  
As the battle begun, and Orcs barely evaded the hits from the monsters, Mer'shorn stepped back, and prepared...  
  
And then he jumped, barely making it behind the monster, and as expected, there was another one waiting for him. As he prepared to deliver a hit to the Orc, Mer'shorn simply evaded him, and the hit landed into the first monster. As the other Orcs moved back, not knowing what to await, Mer'shorn jumped out from there, victorious. The first monster fell to the ground, collapsing and filling the area in some debris. But the battle only began...  
  
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"Very clever moves..." - commented the dark silhouette, as he stood before a small box, and looked into it - "What is his name?"  
  
Two silhouettes stood, on the peaceful grasslands. The robbed one had a black box in his arms, which he seemed to display before the  
  
"Mer'shorn" - Replied his robbed companion in a hiss - "the champion of the Frostwolves."  
  
"We could use him..."  
  
"He is a loyal follower of Durotan!"  
  
"Magic is stronger then loyalty!" - Retorted the caped silhouette, but then continued, quietly - "and magic we shall use..."  
  
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More and more Orcs fell. The creatures however seemed to lack any intelligence, as they fell for the same trick two more times.  
  
As an Orc charged forwards, his body was pathetic compared to his opponent, who took him up, and threw down into his companion killing both, and just ensure that, the creature finished the work by stomping on the two bodies.  
  
*Why did we not bring any warhammers?* - Mer'shorn questioned himself - "we may have had a chance!"  
  
And yet another charged, jumped up, and was hit down by the creature. But before he fell, he threw his katana into the creature's "face". And then the most surprising thing happened. The magma poured out from the stricken eye, and the creature shattered to become mere rocks again.  
  
*So that is their weakness! We now have a chance!*  
  
"Charge, and hit the beasts in their eyes!" - the Orc-champion yelled on top of his lungs - "Charge!"  
  
And he was met by cheers and war cries. He himself jumped up, avoiding the sharp rocks that remained in places of the fallen creatures, and hit the next one, but missed, but then he jumped up, barely avoiding the stone fist that instead landed into the tunnel "wall", and this time, his hit was true. He barely jumped way after sticking out his prized katana. He expected it to melt; but instead, it glowed with flame as if on fire.  
  
And the Orcs charged over the debris, determined to avenge their dead comrades...  
  
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[Fall back, creatures of stone, back to your master fall back!] - Yelled the cloaked figure that overviewed the battle, in Northshire-Tongue (which was used for spells in Azeroth, as it descended from Quel'dorin tounge), and quietly added - "both of us live to fight another day, Orc..."  
  
The golems obeyed his command, turned away as one, and marched back. Their enemies also stopped, knowing that pursuit may not give them any good (and stopped by the yell of their leader). The person bearing the black cloak searched for the stone button, and the tunnel was opened again, with much noise.  
  
*Damn the Orcs! Medivh better know what he is doing!*  
  
If one was to look closer at his face, he would notice a pointy brown beard, and the darker shoulder-length hair, and his eyes were dark green. This man was well known in Elwyn...  
  
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And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	18. Part Eighteen: The Two Meetings

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly!  
  
GalthroxKun: Thank you, and the update is here!  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Eighteen: The Two Meetings.  
  
The two old shamans sat near the fire in a small wigwam, one of the meditating sites also known as spiritual lodges. The news from scouts were yet to come, and Durotan was worried about Greh'tor, and Gul'dan was already rallying the rest of the horde to do battle at some place named Elwyn, as Durotan's agents reported.  
  
Drek'thar was also worried about the happenings; the old shaman could easily feel a demonic and all-mighty presence in the land, and if it joins forces with Gul'dan, they will be almost unstoppable...  
  
This was indeed Habarouth, and the battle for it was about to begin.  
  
*Our only hope is in the scouts! If they could find any worthy allies, we will be able to save Habarouth!* - Durotan sighed in despair - *so much depending on the few... And against whom will the battle at that "Elwyn" will be?*  
  
No words were needed. Drek'thar knew of Durotan's thoughts, for he thought of the same.  
  
A bald head of a champion has appeared at the entrance.  
  
"Master Durotan, a messenger from Greh'tor's scouts has arrived!"  
  
*Finally!*  
  
"Let him in." - the Drek'thar said it before Durotan could.  
  
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The silhouette of a capped horse rider was now visible as he approached the huge tower that seemed to reach the skies themselves, the tower made of white stone and dark mortar. As he dismounted, something that seemed like a moan came to his ears.  
  
*The same old tricks... Amazing, how so may fell for it - his ghosts don't really make a sound!*  
  
He willingly closed his eyes, wishing to be denied the view of the ghosts and souls imprisoned in the tower... forever.  
  
But no, after a moment he opened his eyes. This deal with the devil himself was necessary for his own survival...  
  
He kept his sword sheathed, and advanced. The door recognized his spirit, and opened.  
  
The person stepped into the darkness, with only a few torches to light the room. Near one of them, he saw a familiar tall figure, and too ka step back in surprise. The door closed.  
  
*This is unlike him...*  
  
"I see you are back, Blackmoore. I saw it all." - A deep voice, which seemingly lacked any emotion ahs spoken.  
  
"I beg your pardon, master, but they found out the one weakness..."  
  
"You are forgiven."  
  
*This is really unlike him!*  
  
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The scout seemed to be Greh'tor's age, in light armor and with a sabre. He has braided black hair and brown eyes, all those traits common amongst the Orcs. He seemed rather excited, but tried not to show it.  
  
"Greetings, warrior. What is your name?" - Durotan begun.  
  
"Rek'nar, master."  
  
"What is the message, Rek'nar?" - Drek'thar slowly spoke.  
  
"We have found what seems to be the dominant people of this land. They are weaker then us, have pink skin, smaller teeth, and diverse colors of hair."  
  
"Anything else?" - asked Durotan.  
  
"Most of them have a lot of honour, they are as intelligent as we are, or so it seems, some of them speak in Habarothin. They also value friendship, and have strange weapons. Their main strength is in agility." - Scout explained rather quickly, just as if he was... scared of Durotan.  
  
"I see. How did you find them?"  
  
"In a small village that they call Elwyn."  
  
*Elwyn! We must warn them - they seem to be innocents soon to be wrapped up in Gul'dan's plans!*  
  
"When Greh'tor and the others found them, a warrior in a brown cape has warned us in several strange tongues, including Habarothin. They were under attack of these dark-green things and some Twilight Hammer warriors, and were fighting heroically in a losing battle. We came just in time, and the remainders of the enemy have fled."  
  
"So, they are involved in the war?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well." - To that the scout turned around, and Durotan added - "Get a good rest, and then ride to Greh'tor. The Orcs in the other camps are repairing the second attack as we speak..."  
  
*Let us hope we have gained a valuable ally.*  
  
And then the scout added - "Greh'tor also wants reinforcements. He already guessed the possibility of the second attack, and feels the need to protect Elwyn from any other attacks."  
  
"Reinforcements he will get..." - Durotan spoken, as the scout left.  
  
"I think I know what you mean" - Drek'thar smirked - "you are as reckless as you were, my friend."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS.  
  
Oh, and some shameless advertising of a good an idea that no one just seems to notice - Paragraph by Paragraph stories on Bor's Stories. I really want more people to know about it, that's all... Feel free to join us!  
  
  
  
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	19. Part Nineteen: The Call to War

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly!  
  
GalthroxKun: Thanks again!  
  
randh13th: Well, Medivh still contacted Gul'dan and helped him set up the portal, but in this story they actually have a limited agreement, but you will soon find out some rather interesting details on this matter.  
  
Oh, and I found out about the Stormreavers. Gul'dan formed that small spellcaster clan during the Second War to protect himself from Ogrim Doomhammer. So Gul'dan couldn't possibly come from there.  
  
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Chapter Nineteen: The Call to War.  
  
The green grass was barely visible, yet if looked at from above, the scene would have seemed to be a sea of green, only a sea littered with occasional metal.  
  
There stood the heavily armored Orcs and gargantuan Ogres of the Twilight Hammer; there stood the tall and muscular, yet few Blademasters of the Burning Blade; there stood the zealous Orcs of the Bleeding Hollow.  
  
No members of the Shadow Council were to be seen, apart from one - Gul'dan.  
  
The warriors of either clan stood in something that would resemble an actual formation. In front of the Bleeding Hollow and Twilight Hammer Clans, their leaders stood: the one-eyed old veteran Kilrogg, and gargantuan Cho'gall the Ogre Mage.  
  
As Gul'dan in his blood-red robes approached this army, he noticed that no leader came out for the Burning Blade warriors.  
  
"Where is the leader of your clan?" - Gul'dan addressed a Burning Blade warrior.  
  
"We have no leader, and we need no leader!" - replied the defiant warrior.  
  
*Indeed they are, as unpredictable and uncontrollable as the wind, if not even surpassing that height!* - thought the warlock - *and that is one of their greatest strengths.* - he realized.  
  
When Gul'dan walked back a bit, he stood against the color of the Horde, to smash the pathetic spot of resistance that was saved by the Frostwolves. To destroy Elwyn once and for all.  
  
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"Warriors of the Burning Blade! Elite Warriors of the Bleeding Hollow! Elite Warriors of the Twilight Hammer!" - yelled out Gul'dan, to the cheers of his crowd.  
  
"Today, we ride and walk to Elwyn, and tonight, we will kill the pinkskins and the Frostwolves! We will bathe in their blood and burn their pathetic village until it is no more! Tonight, we will give in to the black rage, and rightfully so will bring the sacrifice of the enemy lives to the eternal burning black rage inside us all!" - what started like a speech, now seemed a roar, and the bloodlust filled the Orcs, who did not even want to think about what is happening - they only wanted to kill. To destroy. To cover the green lands of Elwyn in blood forever.  
  
Little did Gul'dan and his crowd knew, that with a chuckle, a mighty wizard watched over him from his tower, seemingly as old as the world itself. His companion would also chuckle at this - the end of their enemies was closer and closer, as the last pieces sand in the sand watch of Stormwind Keep, a gift from Medivh to king Llane III, were to fall due this week, along with the mortal kingdoms, making way for the new order...  
  
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As the people of Elwyn tried to sleep after what seemed to be the worst day in town's history, Cedric just couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.  
  
*Why did I survive* - he pondered - *So many have died, yet I didn't. I wonder if these "orcs" as they call themselves knows something about...*  
  
He looked towards the primitive camp just outside the village - the white- wolf riders didn't want to sleep in the lodgings of the deceased, pointing out that amongst them, it is against the code of honour.  
  
*It is rather interesting. I think that Arrius and I should try to find out some more about them, and why were they so angry at the dark-green ones and that Gul'dan character... Apart from the obvious*  
  
*Let's just hope the king will help us...*  
  
Yet no matter how he tried to distract himself from that thought, the warden had a strange feeling that great changes were coming to this world, and he just couldn't persuade himself that after this menace is fought off, the life is still never going back to normal. for the entire world.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS.  
  
Oh, and some shameless advertising of a good an idea that no one just seems to notice - Paragraph by Paragraph stories on Bor's Stories. I really want more people to know about it, that's all... Feel free to join us!  
  



	20. Part Twenty: Medivh's Assembly

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore, even through he is of no real importance in the story... For now! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly! I own the Bandits of the Knife and Woodsmen, but not Defias. Oh, and I also own the Rogue Elves/Cult of Medivh, they are the first Blood Elves I guess...  
  
GalthroxKun: If you are reading this right now, your wish about updates came true!  
  
randh13th: Curious? Good... You see, I also don't really know where the plot goes, I kind of make it up along the way - for once I never planned a battle at Elwyn until I decided to put in place that introductionary chapter... By the way, I just read the Chronicle of Chaos, please continue it! I really like it!  
  
And as for the Orc trying to speak Azerothin in this chapter, well I somehow edited the mistakes I encountered when the local Israelis tried to speak Russian to me.  
  
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Chapter Twenty: Medivh's Assembly.  
  
As the sun rised above Karazhan, the tower still looked as threatening as in the night. And before it an army... or rather a crowd, as the men were greatly disorganized, stood. They waited for one person - for Aedelas Blackmoore.  
  
Some of the men were the Bandits of the Knife, in leather armor and with knives, daggers and axes. Some were the Woodsmen, in the green clothings and with longbows - the sharpshooters in the Elwyn Forest. Others were the Defias, in lighter leather armor and with knives and throwing spears, and with dark-pink bandanas and finally, the rarest of all - the black-cloaked Rogue Elves, exiles from a nation of exiles. The last ones stood out from the crowd, both in the appearance and in the one they waited to take command of them. These were the followers... of Medivh himself! Each had a staff of obsidian with a red gem on its top, an elven bow with words in Queldorin, and a mighty elven sword strengthened with magic yet light to bear.  
  
Today, they were the scum, the outlaws on the run - their enemies were everywhere, and allies few. Yet Medivh and Blackmoore promised to lead them to rule all the Eastern Kingdoms, to avenge everything the nobles did to them in their lives, and to finally take the place they deserve in the society - to become the elite, the upper class, to replace the nobles!  
  
And it was for that one purpose that the ancient enemies united to destroy the Old Order and bring about the New Order, led by Aedelas and Medivh! And thousands of them stood forth, and united with the Orcs, they will topple the kingdoms of the East... forever.  
  
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As the two tall and cloaked men stood out, cheers came from the unlikely army.  
  
"I see that the Bandits of the Knife, the Woodsmen, the Brotherhood of the Defias and the Cult of Medivh are all here!" - yelled out one of them, the taller one. The Elves could sense the great magicks in him, and knew him to be their true leader.  
  
"Yet these are only the first of our great army - the army of all the outlaws in the Eastern Kingdoms!" - spoke his companion.  
  
"With them, the storm shall begin! For all their corrupt and vile usurpations and the abuse of their power, for all their sins, the punishment has came to the Nobles and their followers - an unstoppable force - the Orcs!"  
  
And more cheers came.  
  
"They are going to wipe out the Old Order and clean the path for our new Order to rise! Yet they may need help. Already much of them march towards Elwyn; a small group led by one Blackhand the Destroyed has been dispatched to conquer Blackrock Spire; more and more are coming from the Twisted Nether itself - the divine punishment is here, and we are to help carry out the final verdict - the destruction of the House of Nobles, and of all the kings, lords and knights! And after the storm is over, the Orcs will die out themselves, yet they are unaware of that. And the only ones who will be standing still on the battlefield..."  
  
The bandits already guessed the answer...  
  
"...are the ones who rise up! The ones who take up arms to reclaim this land for US! And you, gentlemen, are amongst them! Now, we shall march! To Westfall and to Elwyn! And to justice! For the New Order!"  
  
The army erupted in cheers, even the usually silent Elves, and Medivh could almost laugh at how easy he manipulated the people of Azeroth to their doom.  
  
*Ignorant fools, all of them. Gul'dan, Aedelas, Kil'jaden.They all think themselves to be the ultimate manipulators... Yet they all will be manipulated into bowing down to Sargeras; Gul'dan out of lust for personal power, Aedelas for revenge, and Kil'jaden with Archimonde both want to look better in the eyes of their lord... The Burning Legion hides it, but they all fear me. Is that not a clue to my power?*  
  
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As the sun shined over the remains of Elwyn, Cedric looked rather pathetic - he just couldn't sleep, he was sure that something was terribly wrong.  
  
Suddenly, he was approached by a strong-build heavily armored Orc. He somehow tried to speak in Azerothin, but it was easily noticeable that he just mastered the words he spoke.  
  
"Sir Ced'eric, you are callhead to meat Sir Greh'tor."  
  
The warden wasn't surprised to the way it was spoken, but rather that while yesterday no one amongst them spoke on Common Azerothin, this one somehow learned it overnight.  
  
"How did you learn to speak our language?" - He asked.  
  
"We asket the Yirik prisunir to tellus how to talk Azerozin."  
  
"Oh." - Cedric somehow translated it in his mind, still not realizing who these "Yiriks" were and how did THEY learn to speak Azerothin in the first place - "But I somehow doubt that Greh'tor mastered it well enough for now."  
  
"Off course!" - The Orc grinned - "Sir Arrius will be transleathing it."  
  
"Very well" - Cedric hidden the chuckle - "I will be there in a few minutes..."  
  
"Off course! I will inn formed them immediately!" - And the warrior happily walked off despite (to Cedric's dismay) noticing the barely hidden laughter.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS.  
  
Oh, and some shameless advertising of a good an idea that no one just seems to notice - Paragraph by Paragraph stories on Bor's Stories. I really want more people to know about it, that's all... Feel free to join us!  
  



	21. Part Twenty One: The Voice of Medivh

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly! I own the Bandits of the Knife and Woodsmen, but not Defias. Oh, and I also own the Rogue Elves/Cult of Medivh, they are the first Blood Elves I guess... I own Cedric and Arrius, too.  
  
randh13th: Well, both of them are dangerous, but it is rather obvious that Medivh, being the last (and thus most powerful) Guardian of Tirisfal, and with the soul of the Daemon Lord Sargeras seems the more dangerous of the two. Or at least for now...  
  
ANNOUNCEMENT: It would seem that chapter Seventeen: The Spire of Blood was not uploaded, and in it's place, Chapter Sixteen: The Spire of Dark was uploaded once again. I uploaded the correct file now! Chapter Seventeen features a small battle between Golems and Mer'shorn's Orcs! It is also important for this chapter...  
  
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Chapter Twenty One: The Voice of Medivh.  
  
Fifty Orcs once marched to Blackrock Spire. Twenty-five of them stayed behind, the others climbed up. They found a cave, and confronted an enemy never fought by Orc or Man for what seems to be eternity. The Orcs barely had any chance, and they knew it. Yet they faced the enemy - they stood, they fought... and they fell. They demonstrated amazing feats of courage and skill in the battle, yet it seemed nothing can defeat the beings born of elements and magic alone.  
  
Yet even the elementals or golems could be defeated, albeit only when Lady Luck intervenes in battle against them. And that she has - the Orcs, despite heavy causalities, have fought the threat back, and the remaining Golems retreated, led by the one who was given the mastery over them.  
  
In the caves, now more or less visible, the Orcs, despite a sudden and unlikely victory, were in silence - they mourned the sixteen of their kind that would never charge into battle again.  
  
"We must move on, warriors of the Frostwolf Clan!" - Mer'shorn, the Champion of the Frostwolves, broke the silence.  
  
And then, the silence reclaimed the room for a short while, as the remaining Orcs got ready to march again.  
  
Mer'shorn noticed that there were almost no injuries amongst his troop.  
  
*One blow of a stone-creature's limb kills. These who fought them are either dead, either unscratched...* - he realized.  
  
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The two men, one blonde, one brown haired, swords sheathed, and brown capes on their backs, stood in the small Orc-camp by the ancient woods that were defiled not long ago.  
  
Arrius couldn't help but notice, for the third time, the gradual difference in architecture, at least as long as it comes to the campsites. The Humans had simple wool tents, while these Orcs had the strange structures they call wigwams or in some cases, lodges.  
  
The young yet powerful Orc walked out of his wigwam, and sat on the ground  
  
"Greetings," - Greh'tor seemingly mastered Azerothin a bit better then his servants... or rather his warriors, as he brought no servants, even if he had any.  
  
"Greetings." - replied the other two men, as they sat down on the ground near them. At this point, Greh'tor switched to Northshirian - "I hope that your riders come soon, and that ours do so as well."  
  
"We call them "knights"" - all apart from "knights" was sayed in Northshirian by Arrius.  
  
"Name changes little" - spoke another, feminine Orc, whom the two wardens can only guess to be a she-Orc.  
  
"Indeed it does not" - replied Greh'tor. The brief exchange of words between the two was on Haborothin, for at least one of the wardens to understand - unnecessary, since the two already understood what was meant.  
  
"Yet why did you invite us?" - Cedric asked, and Arrius translated.  
  
"I think we should explain more about each other's people and lands, for the sake of better coordination" - Greh'tor explained, and Arrius, already resigned to this fate, translated it to Lightbringer.  
  
"Understandable" - Cedric nodded, as Greh'tor acknowledged yet another new word of this strange language which the Yiriks and the Humans spoke.  
  
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As several shadows passed near the torches, Mer'shorn suddenly felt uneasy. He felt, almostas if someone was contacting him. Someone powerful. And a thought, foreign to Mer'shorn's mind, suddenly appeared there...  
  
*Greetings Mer'shorn. *  
  
*Who are you?*  
  
*I am the leader in this world.*  
  
*What are you?*  
  
*I am a Guardian of Tirisfal.*  
  
*I never heard of a Guardian of Tirisfal!* - Mer'shorn was getting confused at this strange conversation inside his mind.  
  
*...*  
  
*What is your name?*  
  
*They call me "the Keeper of Secrets"*  
  
*What do you want of me?*  
  
*I want to talk with you.*  
  
*But how did you contact me?*  
  
*I could contact anyone. I want to meet with you, Mer'shorn*  
  
*How do you know my name?!*  
  
*I know much, whether secret or not, yet the knowledge I usually keep to myself.*  
  
Mer'shorn did not know whether this was for real or not. He decided to talk to Durotan or Kigami about this.  
  
*No! You will keep our "conversation" to yourself!* - the Keeper of Secrets commanded him - *We will meet when you return to Kigami's camp. Goodbye, and keep this secret, just as I will!*  
  
And the contact was lost. Mer'shorn decided to obey, since after all, he will come back to the camp eventually... If he survives.  
  
And nevertheless, the Frostwolf Orcs marched forward, following the light of the torches, some of them holding other torches taken from near the strange "window" where torches were not needed.  
  
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Row of Orcs after another row, the heavily armored warriors of Bleeding Hollow marched forth. They always shown great discipline, and always obeyed orders almost unquestiongly, even before the bloodlust. Yet their leader, the wizened old veteran, Kilrogg Deadeye knew that something was just wrong about this deal. Something strange... True the Orcs gained amazing strength, but suddenly, the peaceful shamanistic culture was abandoned... The Draenei oppressors were destroyed, yet Gul'dan ruled with iron fist...  
  
*Did we do the right thing when we drunk Mannoroth's blood? When we gained the amazing strength, and became unstoppable vessels of war... We forgot about our tradition, about our culture.*  
  
The chieftain continued marching with his troops, but nevertheless, he still wondered - maybe Durotan was right when he warned Kilrogg, Kargath and Grom about the danger of having this amazing strength, this power of destruction, and the chaos magic.  
  
The chieftain of Frostwolves himself then visited Kilrogg, hopping to persuade him to resist this sudden lust for blood and destruction.  
  
"We are not worthy of this power, and neither is anyone worthy." - Durotan said back then - "Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Don't you see, Kilrogg? If we receive so much demonic and destructive power, our good side will degrade. While we will be able to destroy like no one before, we will be unable to create. True, we must know how to kill and destroy, but we must also know how to heal and create. We used to know it. Now, we are losing this balance of good and evil within us all."  
  
Back then, Kilrogg laughed in his face. Now, he hoped he had listened back then. He noticed the insanity, the ecstasy of battle, the lust of blood that overtaken his people... And often, he wanted to just come to Gul'dan and ask him about it. To tell him that he wants his people to go back to normal. Or, if he disagrees, he would just impale the warlock, and hope that the corruption wears out. But no matter how he tried to make himself do so, he was just... unable to do anything about it.  
  
*We now have this power, yet we have lost control of it, and of ourselves. Yet something still controls us. Something prevents us from attacking each other in blind fury. Something directs us. But what?*  
  
And then the answer came.  
  
*Gul'dan*  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	22. Part Twenty Two: The Dragon Cave

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly! I own the Bandits of the Knife and Woodsmen, but not Defias. Oh, and I also own the Rogue Elves/Cult of Medivh, they are the first Blood Elves I guess... I own Cedric and Arrius, too.  
  
randh13th: Thank you for still reading this - you are one of the very few! And thank you once more!  
  
POLL: Which one of these characters do you want to appear (that doesn't mean that I will not enter some additional ones afterwards) in the story?  
  
1) Khadgar 2) Garona 3) Korialstrasz 4) Tichondrius 5) Uther Lightbringer 6) Ogrim Doomhammer 7) Danath 8) Someone else  
  
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Chapter Twenty Two: The Dragon Cave  
  
Still recovering from the sudden intrusion into his mind by this... "Keeper of Secrets", Mer'shorn however also realized that this must mean the presence of sentient creatures in this land as well.  
  
*I can only hope that they are not hostile - we may need their help against Gul'dan*  
  
And meanwhile, as the group advanced farther into the cave, an Orc that marched at the front of the others yelled - "A cave inside a cave!"  
  
Mer'shorn broke away from the rest of his warriors, and rushed forward to investigate.  
  
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They came. The pinkskins charged in large amounts. They were in leather armor, and attacked with daggers and puny axes. Ordinarily, the Orcs would have fought such an enemy back easily, but in this case, the enemy attacked in overwhelming amounts. The fire was put out quickly, and a hooded silhouette approached, holding a staff with a raven's head on it. And the tranquility of the place was ruined.  
  
"Hold them back!" - Kigami yelled, beheading one of the beasts - "regroup just outside of the camp, and then charge them!"  
  
The other warriors slowly marched out of the camp, still facing the threat. The pinkskins were primitive and pathetic, yet they still had the common sense not to charge the Orcs immediately. If they had, the Frostwolf katanas would have impaled them in no time. Yet they lost their chance, and as the larger sun sat down, and the smaller was following it closely, Kigami yelled out a battlecry, putting fear into the hearts of these strange creatures. They walked almost like Orcs, and were as tall as an average Orc, and also seemed to communicate somehow, yet attacked travelers like all the other, even more primitive, creatures that the Orcs encountered here so far. And then...  
  
The tall silhouette chanted loudly, and several bolts of flame flew out of the mouth of the raven's head on his staff. All of them hit a target - three Orcs, four pink-skins. Perhaps a punishment? Or a misfire? Or did this creature, obviously their master, even care? With a blood-freezing yell, an Orc burned to death, followed by two other - Kigami shed a tear, and then let out a warcry even greater then the first one, and despite failing to understand it, his warriors knew what to do. They charged across the would-be encampment, and soon, the pinkskins begun to die, one by one. A lot of them tried to run, yet with a chuckle, their master cast another spell, and they flew back to the battlefield again, over the grass, only to be cut into pieces by the Orcs, along with the other scum. Kigami noticed that some of them also had leather helmets, and some even fancied a blade of sorts, yet a strange, double-edged sword with an equally strange hilt. Kigami was surprised that they could even build something like that.  
  
But the re was no time for thoughts! Creatures fell a many, yet the Orcs fell as well. The white furs were bloodied, as the creatures sometimes overpowered the Frostwolf warriors. Kigami swung his blade again, beheading two foolish creatures, and rushed to the rescue of a young warrior, with a scar on his cheek.  
  
As the Orcs fought back, the creatures begun running even quicker. A muscular Orc pushed a creature to the ground, and it seemed to beg for mercy. That was easy to recognize. The Orc chuckled, and decided to let it go - he was trained by Durotan to show mercy. Yet first, he neared his blade to the neck of the creature, and it begun to cry, it's eyes wide open. Then the Orc simply went away, only to be pushed from behind by two more creatures. He fell down, but managed to take hold of the neck of one of the beasts. Yet as he desperately strangled that one, a lot of other rushed to attack him again, and no more was heard of him.  
  
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The Elven vision was still as good in the twilight as in the ordinary light. That was a fact proven a lot of times. Now, several Elves in black cloaks sneaked in complete silence around the trees. The cloaks covering their heads (and ears) did not impair their hearing. A battle was definitely taking place there. Their leader, a pale, and, as usual amongst the Queldorin, blonde warrior, with a young face, yet many centuries behind him (also usual amongst the Elves, immortal as they were), fancied a long Elven runeblade, with a hilt of gold - he was a member of a respected and ancient family back in Quel'thalas, but was now thought dead, since he went away after feeling a surge of magical power so great, not even Sargeras could ever have processed. He had a daughter and a son there. He sighed, remembering the two elflings and his wife, whom he left behind. He could still remember Sylvos and Sylvannas, both names descending from the Queldorin (and now human as well) word "Sylvan" - Woodland, or Woodlander - the two were indeed worthy of the family name of Windrunner.  
  
He sighed again. Sometimes he wondered, what kind of a creature Medivh was? He seemed to be a mere mortal, yet he was immortal, and had powers greater then anything the Elf could even imagine.  
  
But the sounds of battle were getting closer. Tamalion Windrunner grabbed stronger to his sword with both hands. And ever so silently, the Rogue Elves, or Medivharin as they called themselves, rushed to help their master.  
  
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Mer'shorn and his warriors were unaware of the battle at the foundations of the spire, and thought that their comrades were alive and well.  
  
The torches revealed just about enough. In this weird cave, Mer'shorn could sense something wrong... Almost as if some mighty creatures took residence there. Mer'shorn now walked ahead of the others.  
  
And then, suddenly, he stopped. Before him, there was yet another cave of sorts, and there, he could make out strange, red, lizard-like creatures with wings. They were of various sizes, and their skin was armored by Mother Nature herself, spikes down the spine, and across their wings. Most of them were flying around in the cave chaotically, while the larger ones begun to take note of the Orcs.  
  
The Orcs, meanwhile, also noticed these creatures, and wanted to run, but lost the control over their bodies. These creatures were like nothing they saw before. The larger beasts let out a roar. Mer'shorn returned a roar, deciding to die with honor - running away was not something he would do.  
  
The creatures, larger or small, now all moved towards them. The Orcs, having regained control over their bodies, decided to give a fight - there was just something that wouldn't let them run away. They were trained to fight to the last in such situations.  
  
"We may perish!" - yelled out Mer'shorn, knowing that they probably WILL perish - "But we will perish in a battle!"  
  
The Orcs approved it silently, and took out their blades. The reptilian creatures prepared near them. A small creature rushed towards Mer'shorn, despite the larger ones trying to stop it.  
  
*They probably have a closely connected community* - realized Mer'shorn.  
  
The little creature spat out a bolt of fire, yet Mer'shorn evaded it easily. He took out his Katana, and noticed, that it was fire-red - just like after it pierced the eyes of the stone-beasts.  
  
"Die, foul beasts!" - he yelled out, charging the beast, and swinging his blade. He failed to kill it, but he knocked it down. The monsters were outraged, and roared, deafening Mer'shorn.  
  
And The Orcs charged the beasts, soon killing some of them. Yet the larger ones incarnated Orcs with their breath of flame. An Orc yelled, dying in great agony. Outraged, Mer'shorn beheaded a rather large beast. He stopped for a moment.  
  
*This sword seems... Even more powerful then before... Almost as if some magic enchanted it.*  
  
But he had no time to think. He evaded some more fireballs, and then, a larger amount of smaller beastlings surrounded him like a mist.  
  
Mer'shorn concentrated and then, prepared for an ancient and powerful move amongst the Orcs - a Bladestorm. The others noticed it, and also prepared. Yet before they began this desperate attack, a deep voice spoke up.  
  
"Stop, all of you! There will be no more bloodshed in our home!"  
  
*Could these beasts speak?* - Mer'shorn was mistrusting, but seeing as the beasts stopped and retreated into the cave a little, he also signaled for his warriors to stop, and retreat as well.  
  
"We must find out more about these creatures!" - spoke another deep voice - "I never encountered their kind before!"  
  
"Very well." - Spoke the first voice - "Enter our caves, green ones, yet do not attack our kind."  
  
That Mer'shorn could understand. His warriors were confused, just as he was.  
  
"Only if you do not attack our kind!" - He replied.  
  
"That I promise" - spoke a deep voice. Mer'shorn was not sure which one, but decided to enter the cave. Some of the Orcs hesitated, some went after him right away.  
  
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And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	23. Part Twenty Three: The Crimson Queen

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly! I own the Bandits of the Knife and Woodsmen, but not Defias. Oh, and I also own the Rogue Elves/Cult of Medivh, they are the first Blood Elves I guess... I own Cedric and Arrius, too.  
  
randh13th: Well, Medivh is an Elven name, so I intended for Medivharin to mean People of the Keeper of Secrets...  
  
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Chapter Twenty Three: The Crimson Queen.  
  
The winged lizard-like creature of leviathanic proportion sat down in her roost, filled with equally large clean eggs. She sighed with relief - these green creatures have finally stopped.  
  
The other red creatures were also in this cave. They flew here and there, while some sat. Their size - along with occasional body paint and battle wounds - was the only difference amongst them, and their Queen was the largest.  
  
The small group of these green things that looked like humans have seemed to be no threat at first, but later, both the Red Aspect Alexstrasza and her mate Korialstrasz realized their amazing fighting skills, making them worthy foes. Also in difference from the Dwarves and Humans who hunted Dragons down mercilessly and never tried to negotiate, these creatures have listened to the voice of reason.  
  
Or maybe they were deceitful? They had small numbers, and would've eventually died against the Dragon onslaught, yet now, they could just kill them one by one...  
  
*Only time will tell* - concluded Alexstrasza, and called a Dragon half her size, with several scars from battles with dragon hunters.  
  
"Yezhetorszer!" - She called out - "Call the leader of these creatures!"  
  
"But who will that be?" - asked the seasoned veteran, shaking his head.  
  
"The one who answered us with words instead of sword." - Declared the Crimson Queen of the Aspects - "Mer'shorn is his name, for I read his thoughts before letting them in."  
  
"It shall be done" - Yezhetorszer slowly flew through the cave, secretly hopping for his queen's safety.  
  
*After all, who knows what are they doing in our spire and our cave?!*  
  
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A rather tall pinkskin with two daggers rushed towards Kigami. Yet he faced a predatory grin, and a swing of the blade that cut the thief's life short.  
  
More and more of the fools died, and the cloaked creature that commanded the others just overlooked the battlefield, as if expecting a quick victory.  
  
And then, in black cloaks, tall and pale creatures jumped out gracefully out of the bushes, and took out strange swords. These swords were strange for two reasons - they had two edges, and in each blade, Kigami could make out strange alphabet. And then, their swords glowed. With flame of hatred they blazed, and their wielders have charged.  
  
Kigami and the other Orcs have quickly formed a defensive circle around nothing in particular, covering each other's backs. They need no words for this. At the times like these, they easily knew what must be done.  
  
The sweaty pink-skins stepped back. Unusual for them - and for orcs during a battle - they kept quiet. The pale-skins charged, without a battle cry or a word, and neither did an Orc spoke.  
  
Knowing the difficult odds of their victory, Kigami simply yelled out a warcry, and then - "Hognar rether'torn! Meth'nar uzhrok!", an order to break the circle and charge the foe.  
  
Yet the swords of the two sides have sung their song of war, as the Orcs moved as fast as they could to avoid the flame from the swords.  
  
Here, a young Orc charged his foe, yet was impaled on a runeblade and burned to death.  
  
There two older Orcs have cut an enemy to shreds, and advanced slowly, defending each others' backs.  
  
A leather-armored Orc with an axe has forced his Elven foe to retreat by swinging his axe here and there. Yet he was overconfident, and his punishment was another Elf beheading him in an agile and silent charge.  
  
The battle was however drawing to a bloody end. The Orcs fought, and slaughtered many enemies. Yet more and more fell.  
  
The last one to stand was Kigami. When surrounded by pinkskins and paleskins, all seeking to kill him, he grinned for the last time, and unleashed a deadly hurricane of swings, as his sword moved at an unnatural speed. It was harder at his age, but he managed.  
  
He could barely see what was happening, along with all of his foes, but he, in difference from them, knew what was happening anyway.  
  
The Elves have prepared to withdraw from the berserk old blademaster, but only a few got away. The others were cut into pieces, as Kigami swung his blade, losing control of himself quickly.  
  
It all happened too fast. Much of the pink-skins died before they even thought of running. Yet Kigami begun to weaken, and as he insanely yet heroically charged the Elves who tried to run away, a lightning bolt from the raven staff hit and electrocuted him. As Kigami collapsed, he felt a sudden relief.  
  
"I fell in battle." - He thought loudly, while - "and now, I depart".  
  
Never again shall the warrior who has seen five wars and fought in fifty battles, the warrior whose blade brought death to thousands, the warrior with the name of Kigami charge to fight the enemies of his clan and his code. He was the last Orc standing on that bloodied battlefield that became his last, and died happily, as he always wanted. The one who always put honour before his life has departed Draenor not long before he departed the very existence. The song of the unsung hero of the Draenei Wars will be sung forever, and as long as a Frostwolf lives, he will not forget the one who died that day, with a bloodied blade in his hands, powerful from the young age to his death. Kigami, who now lived for eighty three years, was dead. Yet while he may be dead, the memory of this warrior was immortalized, and storytellers will spread his tale, and the younger generations will yet tell their own children of this mighty blademaster of the Frostwolf Clan, along with all the other heroes of the Orcs...  
  
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The cultural exchange between the two humans and the two orcs near Elwyn has lasted for long time, yet both sides were still curious as when they first met.  
  
Greh'tor for one was quite amazed by the local beasts such as horses and goats, and weaponry. But what intrigued him even more was the magic used here, especially The Light. It did not remind him of anything on Draenor, yet when he concentrated now, using his shamanistic training, he did feel a strange, and powerful yet invisible and silent magical vibrations, and was quite interested at the Human ability of controlling it. He was also astonished, although a bit skeptical of the large cities that were here and there. What perhaps interested him even more was, ofcourse, how did Arrius knew Habarothin, and after hearing the explanation, declared his wish to once visit this Northshire after this war is over.  
  
If there was anything that shocked the Arrius and Cedric the most, then that was another world out there, Draenor, from which these Orcs came. Arrius however, being a son to a scholar, immediately suggested the possibility of the demons living in yet another such world, and was unpleasantly surprised when Laturna mentioned that they also know of demons, and that some of these demons helped Gul'dan, a demon-worshipping chaos mage, to corrupt much of the Orcs in order to make an unstoppable army for him.  
  
The two Orcs have explained that they needed to find out how to save the other Orcs. The only thing Cedric could suggest was consulting with the Elves, Dalaran or Northshire, and then proceeded to explain the other two important races of beings in this world.  
  
When told of the sheer numbers of the enemy army, Arrius' faith in victory begun to drop. Cedric didn't improve the situation when he mentioned that even few of these creatures are powerful, and that this time they won due to luck and luck alone.  
  
The only hope was that Lady Luck would smile at Elwyn once more during the battle which was sure to come eventually - if Cedric was confident in that before, he was sure of this when hearing that "Gul'dan would never just let a defeat go. He would do his best to wipe out those who brought him defeat - he always done just that".  
  
That one attack was only a warning. The real attack was yet to come...  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	24. Part Twenty Four: Kilrogg's Mind

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly! I own the Bandits of the Knife and Woodsmen, but not Defias. Oh, and I also own the Rogue Elves/Cult of Medivh, they are the first Blood Elves I guess... I own Cedric and Arrius, too.  
  
randh13th: Actually, Medivh did not seek Kigami. He wanted to use Mer'shorn in his ranks.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Twenty Four: Kilrogg's Mind.  
  
Not a minute past the sun shining on Elwyn once more, Cedric, after sending his wife and his son away to the small village nearby, along with roughly one hundred and fifty other children, women, and old men, all guarded by a small amount of volunteers - the Elders were sure that the bloodlusted Orcs won't attack anything else before destroying Elwyn once and for all - has walked out of his barn, in order to try and check the battle-readiness of those who remained to fight.  
  
And likely, to die as well.  
  
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If Cho'gall's two heads ever agreed on anything, then that's the fact that Cho'gall, the Twilight Hammer Clan, the Horde, the Orcs, the Ogres, everything existed to destroy... Everything else.  
  
As a matter of fact, the force that drove the Twilight Hammer to where it was today - on the outskirts of Elwyn - was the belief that they were the Harbingers of Oblivion, the destruction of everything that ever existed ,and thus purifying.  
  
All those in between Oblivion and Cho'gall were to die.  
  
That was the belief that the Ogre received from Gul'dan, his master and mentor in dark magicks of chaos.  
  
The lumbering ogres, from an easily expendable warrior in loincloth to a mighty Ogre "Lord" in mithril armor, to Cho'gall himself, have formed roughly half of an Orcish Clan led by an Ogre, albeit a mage and a student of Gul'dan.  
  
The other half were the Orcish outlaws and everyone else who got thrown out of other clans for one reason or another.  
  
This massive army marched close up, each barely holding himself back from killing the one before himself, after himself, and on his sides.  
  
Yet they contained it, knowing that Elwyn - and a lot of creatures in whose blood they will today bathe - was close. Closer and closer...  
  
The clans only recently separated, in order to give a nasty surprise to the Frostwolves - the pinkskins are no threat. The ogre mages of the Burning Blade contained the destructive force they were to unleash until they reach a place from where the Blademasters would cause the most damage - the Frostwolf encampment between Elwyn and the field of these strange gigantic brown mushrooms with green "hats", or whatever these plants were.  
  
Gul'dan and Kilrogg would thrust in between Frostwolves and the pinkskin village, coming from behind another such field.  
  
Cho'gall would lead an attack at the safest and quickest way in and out, in order to prevent anyone from escaping, or any other Frostwolves from entering. It was fine by him - Gul'dan surely knew what was the best for the Holy Oblivion and the Twilight Hammer Clan.  
  
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Kilrogg was clearly divided. Gul'dan was riding his wolf in the back of the Bleeding Hollow army. Kilrogg marched in front of his warriors.  
  
*Why can't I just rebel against him? Why is it that I know the truth but I cannot speak it out?*  
  
He also wondered whether the rest of his warriors were also experiencing these same thoughts.  
  
Kilrogg seemingly made all the decisions for himself, and did as he wanted, but now, he could clearly see something phony about that.  
  
Indeed, the mithril-clad chieftain could sense almost as if his thoughts were his, but his actions were someone else's. He easily new that Gul'dan as the one controlling him, forcing him to believe that his actions were of his own.  
  
But something else spoke in him.  
  
*You are doing what you want to do. You see behind Gul'dan's pathetic attempts to control you and your clan! You want him to believe that he succeeded, while he didn't! Why risk him knowing that?*  
  
Perhaps it - whatever it was - was right. But perhaps, it is just another trick of Gul'dan's?  
  
And then, in his mind, Kilrogg heard a voice, this one belonging to someone else. Not himself, but these words were righteous. They came from someone he easily knew.  
  
*You and your people are slaves to Gul'dan. But you can resist! All of us can! You can overcome Gul'dan's control, and so can your people! I will lend you my help!*  
  
But the battle for his mind continued, as the first voice spoke again.  
  
*Do not listen to the fool! He just wants to manipulate you into giving up to his will! Destroy him and his armies! And then, you could attack Gul'dan! No doubt that he conspires with that old fool!*  
  
*I just hope that you free yourself. Me and my people will forever support you in your battle for freedom.*  
  
Kilrogg still marched forth, his arm holding the Katana.  
  
*Soon, you will be at Elwyn* - spoke the second voice - *There, you are to decide whether your blade will be pointed on us, or on Gul'dan. I beg you, overcome the bloodlust! When you are free, your clan will be free as well!*  
  
*Perhaps.* - spoke a third voice. These thoughts belonged to Kilrogg himself. *Perhaps*  
  
When he was sure that the two mighty magic-users left his mind alone for now, he allowed himself to think freely. The thought that came first did not surprise him.  
  
*Good luck, Durotan.*  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
Durotan opened his eyes. For the entire day, he, Nazgrel, and three hundred best of the best amongst all the Frostwolf warriors.  
  
He did not even think of sleeping. They just ahd a small break, and he sued the opportunity to try and free Kilrogg.  
  
He felt that there indeed sitl laws hope for Kilrogg Deadeye. Gul'dan controlled his body, but not his thoughts. In fact, Gul'dan's grip was... Weakening.  
  
Durotan felt him there, in Kilrogg's thoughts. The warlock tried to persuade Kilrogg that he was free, and that he just needs to pretend to be controlled by Gul'dan until the right time.  
  
*Gul'dan must've sensed his control over Kilrogg and the Bleeding Hollow was weakening, so until he could kill Kilrogg, he needs ot confuse him...*  
  
And then Durotan realized his mistake.  
  
*He is trying to get ultimate control over Kilrogg, over everyone! He needs to delay Kilrogg just incase, while he himself finds a way to control his thoughts as well!*  
  
Durotan heard footsteps approaching him in his primitive tent. At first he grabbed the hilt of his Katana, but ten relaxed as he heard the voice of this visitor.  
  
"Chieftain Durotan." - Said Naz'grel's voice, calm as always - or as always outside of a battle - "We are ready to depart."  
  
"Very well." - Replied Durotan, attempting a grin - "we must depart quickly then. This might be the key battle against Gul'dan."  
  
*Indeed it could. But who will win?*  
  
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And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


	25. Part Twenty Five: The Stage is Set

*Thoughts* "Speech" [Spells] 'Sounds'  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything apart from some of descriptions, memories, lines, and Greh'tor with Mer'shorn and Kigami. The same goes for Yiriks, Megtern and Heth'nor Snakejaw. The rest is owned by Blizzard. Including Nazgrel and Drek'thar. And Elwyn, both the Town and the Forest. And shamed be ye that know not of Aedelas Blackmoore! I do own Erryl and the bandit twist for Blackmoore though... And I own Habarouth! It's mine! All mine, I tell you! Muwhahahahahahaah! Well, it's not really that much, but I do own something at least... Oh, and I also own the plot, mostly! I own the Bandits of the Knife and Woodsmen, but not Defias. Oh, and I also own the Rogue Elves/Cult of Medivh, they are the first Blood Elves I guess... I own Cedric and Arrius, too.  
  
Cheezy Pierre: Thanks for err... commenting as well! I have more and more readers, it seems...  
  
randh13th: Thank you, and the battle begins. The first part is a bit blurry but the next one will feature a large scale battle!  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
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Chapter Twenty Five: The Stage is Set.  
  
The sun was up in the sky, and the training spares were over. Already the main exits/entrances, including the woods in strategically important locations were guarded by the survivors of the first attack. It was planned out for this militia to divide into groups of five militiamen and one warden as its commander, though the numbers were somewhat irregular.  
  
Already Greh'tor and Laturna prepared their warriors for three possible main courses of action: defending the Orcish camp, attacking the enemy if he is indecisive, or rushing to aid the humans - though these that lived here in Elwyn didn't have much, Greh'tor was confident that Arrius did not lie and there indeed are much, much more.  
  
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Behind the woods, a lumbering war machine of Orcs and Ogres approached ever-so-slowly. They knew their objectives, and were willing to fulfill them - perhaps because they were unable to resist the magicks of Gul'dan and the Daemon of Twisted Nether.  
  
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From another side, an "army" of bandits, led by Aedelas Blackmoore ran as fast as these outlaws could to Elwyn - if not to get the loot, then at least to prove themselves worthy allies. A wise move for some, a mad scheme to others. But no one willed to face Blackmoore with such protests.  
  
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Reinforcements from both Azeroth and the Frostwolf camp rushed as well, fearing for their men... and about the plague that could soon be unleashed.  
  
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The chess-board was already here, and the pieces in their places. And the first move was made...  
  
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The Ogres and the Orcs suddenly ran out from the woods, overwhelming the few militiamen at the wooden gates.  
  
A club smashed scull of one. Two others managed to actually cut down an Ogre, while a Warden impaled an Orc and two more militia groups rushed assist their friends, yet Cho'gall brought a mighty horde. Lumbering Ogres advanced, smashing all the resistance away quite literally. The Orcs charged forth, as many as the ants, and soon, with numbers and brute force, the wooden gates were secured. A warcry was let out, and the last warden, who just beheaded two more axe-wielding Orcs, collapsed, with a yell of agony. Some more Militia groups, led by the one called Arrius ran to help their comrades, as Cedric noticed the slaughter. Their places were quickly taken by Frostwolf Orcs.  
  
"Die, accursed fools!" - yelled out Arrius, approaching a powerful Yirik. Just then, he saw two Ogres as well, and stepped back, remembering Greh'tor's tales.  
  
*Two-headed monsters! They must be in league with Gul'dan!*  
  
But Arrius made a mistake by letting himself be distracted, and he went down, knocked out by a hammer. The battle begun around him, as Arrius drifted away from reality for now...  
  
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*I must wake up. I must fight on.*  
  
*Why do you think so?*  
  
That thought was strangely foreign, yet seemed peculiarly familiar as well. Almost as if it belonged to an old friend... or an old foe.  
  
*I must save the people of Elwyn!*  
  
*Do you think you could make a difference in this battle?*  
  
*Yes, I do.*  
  
*How?*  
  
*What is this trickery?!*  
  
*How will you make a difference?*  
  
*By holding back the Orcs!*  
  
*How will you hold back the Orcs?*  
  
Arrius had enough.  
  
*I will fight them! I will kill them!*  
  
*Why?*  
  
*So they will be a threat no more!*  
  
*Yet they think the same. Yet they are driven by the same thought.*  
  
*They attacked us!*  
  
*But wouldn't you have attacked them if you found them first?*  
  
*No.*  
  
*Why?*  
  
*I have to go back and... save the people from them. I have to help Cedric.*  
  
*How?*  
  
*I will make my stand with them! With the people of Elwyn and the Orcs of the Frostwolf Clan!*  
  
*How will you help?*  
  
*With my blade. I fear killing will have to be the solution*  
  
*But are you going to save them by killing the others?*  
  
*Yes! Yes. Yes...*  
  
*Are you sure?*  
  
*No.*  
  
*The battle must go on, but you must...*  
  
*What are you?!*  
  
*This is of no importance. You must go and tell and Greh'tor to try and find a way to save some of the Orcs from their curse without killing them.*  
  
*How will Greh'tor help?*  
  
*He can save them!*  
  
*What?*  
  
*Tell him that he can still save them. That he has to reach out to them.*  
  
*Very well, but why should I trust you.*  
  
*It is best for you to do so. Will you do it?*  
  
*Yes...*  
  
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Suddenly, Arrius found himself awake in the grass. The battle was still going on, as the militia barely fought back, in a blind fury of attacks. Not much changed, apparently, apart from the militia regaining some inches of ground and pushing the enemy out of the wooden fortifications.  
  
Then he remembered the strange conversation in his mind, and barely stood up. There was searing ache in his back, and his leg hurt as well.  
  
Nevertheless, he hurried up, to see Cedric or better yet Greh'tor. He turned around, wishing he could help the militia, but he was too injured to fight anyway, and his sword wasn't with him - apparently the Orcs looted him anyway. In much pain, he walked away, trying not to look back at the new battlefield. The enemy came too early.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
And a warning to Warcraft purists: the storyline is about to change greatly, and to go on a different path from the real Warcraft storyline.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
Whether it is to criticize me, correct me, compliment me, tell me that you like pie, or maybe cheese.  
  
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
  
I WILL NOT POST THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEONE REVIEWS. 


End file.
